


Five Minutes

by subcutaneous7



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subcutaneous7/pseuds/subcutaneous7
Summary: After coming home from their hot air balloon ride, Grace and Frankie must deal with the changes they face. Set right after Season 3 ends. Updated from a ficlet to a multi-chapter fic. Femslash.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a ficlet, but due to popular demand and my inability to stop writing them, I'm now turning it into a multi-chapter fic. I don't own these characters but I love them a lot and I hope you'll enjoy the journey I've set them on. Please let me know what you think. Rating also changed to M for future chapters. Thanks for reading! (:

Grace anxiously licked her fingers before flipping the page, scanning the same paragraph twice, then a third time, not sure she was even digesting half of what she read. She took a sip of her wine, smoothing out the wrinkles in her blue pajama pants as she sat straight up on the bed, eyes shifting to the door every few minutes without even realizing it. When she caught herself, her stomach ached, pinging with guilt and questions she couldn't yet find the courage to answer.

She and Frankie came home from their hot air balloon ride hours ago. Frankie disappeared into her studio soon after, coming down from the thrill of the experience, it's breathtaking views, nothing but the wind and the smell of propane to distract them from the looming tension in their lives. Nothing else seemed to matter for the hour or so they soared above the city, nothing but the fact that things didn't have to change, not yet at least. Grace could still feel the sun on her face, the pressure of Frankie’s hand on her back as they stood together, mostly silent, trying not to think about anything other than the fact that things felt good, just the way they were, in that perfect moment.

“Hey,” Frankie’s distinctive voice cut through the silence.

Grace jumped a little, looking up to find the other woman finally standing in the doorway, wringing her hands, fidgeting furiously before shoving them in the pockets of her denim nightgown.

“Hey,” the blonde cleared her throat, speaking softly as she removed her glasses, abandoning them with her book on the nightstand. “How’d it go? Did you talk to Jacob?”

“I did,” Frankie nodded.

“And?” Grace nudged.

“I told him I had a chance to think about things from a ‘higher plane,’ though I didn't mention the balloon ride. I knew that would make him way too jealous,” she shared. “But I did say he was right. Santa Fe sounds like the perfect place for me, in many ways. It has everything I could want from a creative and spiritual perspective. Vibrant arts scene. Vegan food trucks. Mud bathing nudist colonies.”

“Uh huh,” Grace winced at the thought. “So...you said yes then? You’ll go with him?”

“No,” Frankie answered quickly. “I said I couldn't. Not now, not ever. So we broke up. For good.”

“Wow,” Grace swallowed, a bit stunned. She ran a hand through her hair, heart racing. “But I...I thought you loved him?”

"I do,” she sighed. “But not enough to leave all this behind. My home. My family. You."

Grace did her best to school her features, knowing her eyes said more than she wanted them to, but she kept breathing just the same.

"And...what did he say?"  
  
"He said I should think about what that really means.”

“Yeah,” Grace practically whispered. “What, uh...what does it mean exactly?"  
  
"I don't know,” Frankie turned away, dropping her eyes uncharacteristically, pacing at the foot of the bed. “That I'm happy I suppose?"  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"You know I am,” she told her. “Except..."  
  
"What?" Grace waited on bated breath.

Frankie stopped moving, slowly looking up. It was so quiet, they could hear the waves crashing onto the beach from the other side of the house.

"Can I please sleep in here tonight?" she finally exploded, flopping onto the bed, grabbing hold of one of Grace’s ankles for extra effect.  
  
"Not this again,” Grace rolled her eyes, shimmying away.  
  
"Please? I know I'm not alone anymore, not metaphorically or even literally, but I did just break up with my boyfriend and I could use some extra human energy flowing in and around my aura right now. Please? Please, Grace."  
  
"Fine,” she relented, a bit too quickly.

“Oh thank you,” Frankie climbed up the length of the king sized bed, pulling the covers back, burying herself beneath them like she belonged there, like she'd done it a million times.

“But no spooning,” Grace warned gently, shutting off the light before tucking herself in too.

“Just a few minutes?”

“No,” she reiterated, closing her eyes. “Goodnight.”

It wasn't even that late. Grace could feel her ears buzzing, the electricity, the depth of Frankie’s words hitting her in ways she couldn't begin to explain. Never in her life had she been so terrified of someone being this close, but even more devastated by the thought of her being far away. Relief flooded through her body, even as it shook with nagging thoughts and possibilities.

“Ten minutes?”

Frankie knew exactly what buttons to push, and she always got her way, but only because Grace let her.

“Five,” she breathed, biting her lip as she listened to the welcome sound of Frankie’s giddy, muffled laughs against the pillows, her warm body sidling up, molding itself to her back and shoulders, curling around her so snugly, Grace made a small noise she hoped the other woman couldn't hear.

“Thanks,” Frankie whispered, breath fluttering against the nape of her neck.

“It's okay,” she told her, allowing herself to sink into the touch. "I'm glad you're here."

"In your bed?" Frankie teased.

"No,” Grace exhaled. “And yes. I don't mind, really. I'm just thankful you chose to stay."  
  
"I was never going to leave,” Frankie assured. “You know that."  
  
"I do now,” Grace shuddered, holding back tears.

They were silent for a while then, both of them listening, waiting for sure signs the other had fallen asleep, shifting against the mattress, rustling the sheets, until it was apparent neither of them were anywhere near settling down.

“Grace?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Clearly not.”

“Me either,” Frankie swallowed. “As beautiful as the back of your head is, do you think you could turn around for a little while?”

“Why?” Grace asked, almost panicked.

“Because,” Frankie continued. “If neither of us can sleep, maybe talking till we exhaust ourselves will help. Plus I would like to see your face. I miss it.”

“How could you possibly miss it?” Grace laughed as she hastily turned over, Frankie’s arm still draped around her waist. “You just saw it.”

“True, but I still miss it,” Frankie admitted. “Just the thought of not seeing it every day really threw me for a loop.”

“There is a thing called Skype, you know.”

“I know,” Frankie hushed. “But there’s no spooning through Skype.”

“What makes you think there's going to be any more spooning?” Grace had a million questions. “Other than this?”

“I don't know,” Frankie fell quieter, eyes flashing gray in the dark.

Grace watched her closely, the way her lips twitched, how pained she looked, like she always did when she was holding something back.

“Frankie, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” she exhaled sharply.

“Come on,” Grace’s hand found her way to Frankie’s cheek, resting there for a moment, trying to be supportive. “You can tell me.”

“I don't know...if I can,” Frankie swallowed.

“What?” Grace implored. “What could you possibly have to say that I wouldn't be able to hear at this point?”

Frankie’s eyes began to water, and Grace started to feel guilty for pushing her too hard. This wasn't how it normally went. She was the one who held back with things, Frankie was the one ready to open up and share everything she felt. Her hesitation had to mean something.

“Grace…”

“Yes,” she held her tighter, letting her fingers skate across her smooth skin. “Just say it.”

“I…” she began, blinking. “I really love you.”

Grace’s lips curled up instantly at that, unable to contain her smile.

“Is that it?” she laughed softly. “Because I really love you too.”

“I know you do,” Frankie swallowed. “But not…”

“No buts,” Grace’s eyebrows furrowed. “I love you, Frankie Bergstein. So very much. And I'm thankful for you...in ways I can't even begin to tell you.”

“That sounds like a lot,” Frankie sighed.

“It is,” Grace nodded. “So what is there to be scared of?”

Frankie shook her head helplessly, eyes closing as Grace’s fingers continued ghosting her cheek. She opened them again, her own hand finding its way to the other woman’s shoulder, then her face, breathing her in like it would somehow communicate everything she wanted to say. Grace felt their bodies shifting closer, like they were going in for a hug, like they had many times, only instead, they each held their gaze steady, hands shaking, refusing to let go or look away, and then, it happened.

Frankie’s lips were on hers, impossibly soft and full and tasting just the way Grace knew they would, like mint and chamomile and cookies she was always sneaking, and they were moving, slipping over hers very, very slowly, before pulling away.

“Oh god,” Grace’s breath caught, hands retreating.

"Oh my god!” Frankie sat up. "I'm so...I can't believe I did that, I...I don't know what I was thinking…”

“Frankie…”

“Shit. Shit shit shit, I can't believe it. I'm so sorry, I can't…”

“Frankie!”

“Do you want me to leave?"

"No!” Grace spoke firmly, but shakily. “No I...I don't want you to leave.”

“You're not upset?”

“Not upset,” she confirmed. “Confused, yes.”

“So confused,” Frankie agreed, burying her face in her hands, rocking back and forth as she turned away. “God, I've wanted to do that so many times but I didn't because I was scared of what it might mean.”

“It’s alright,” Grace reached out, grabbing her arm, trying to keep them grounded. “It doesn't have to mean anything.”

“Uh, yes Grace, I think it does.”

“Why?” she raised her voice a little, clinging to denial.

“Why?” Frankie looked at her. “Why says the woman whose husband left her for the other woman’s husband?”

“Yes, but...we're not like them,” Grace insisted, sitting up, pulling the sheet over her chest. “They're the gay ones, not us.”

“Oh, like they have the hallmark on it for the whole planet?” Frankie rolled her eyes. “Don't give them that much credit.”

“Frankie, you're not gay!” Grace flailed, laughing almost deliriously. “You love Jacob.”

“Yes, so much I left him for you.”

“You... _what_?” Grace’s mouth fell open, everything hitting her at once. “You left him _for_ me? That's not exactly what you said before.”

“Yes I did.”

“Frankie…” she paused, trying to regroup. “ _I_ am not gay.”

“I know,” Frankie nodded. “I believe you.”

“It's been a long couple of weeks. I was afraid of losing my best friend, and I know you were too. That's what all this is about. Can't two people kiss each other out of...respect, admiration...and that just be what it is?”

“Yes, but not two people who love each other like you and I do.”

“Since when are you gay?!” Grace kept going back to that, deflecting.

“I'm not. But I can't exactly claim to be straight either.”

“Since _when_?”

“I don't know, since birth?” Frankie shrugged, falling against the pillows. “According to most people, although I think it's much more fluid than that. You know just because I didn't want my husband leaving me for a man doesn't mean I don't have a good grasp of these things. I've watched all seventeen seasons of RuPaul’s Drag Race. I'm not a complete dummy.”

“Well explain it to me then because I'm having a hard time understanding.”

“What is there to explain?” Frankie turned towards her, eyes glistening. “I love you. You love me. I've been wanting to kiss you for months, maybe longer, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. Too scared of losing our friendship. What more is there to say?”

“You've…wanted to kiss me for  _months_?” Grace swallowed, whispering heavily in the dark, clutching the sheets tighter to her chest.

“Yes.”

“Really?” she trembled. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Frankie argued. “‘Grace, you're my best friend and I love you and I know you're straight but when I look at you sometimes I don't know if I am anymore?’ That I get jealous every time some asshole like Nick tries to move in on you? That I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I don't know what to do with any of these feelings? All of that?”

Grace was shocked into stillness. Her skin was heating up, melting at the incredible truth and sweetness of Frankie’s words.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “That...would have been a good place to start.”

“Yeah, well,” Frankie shrugged. “There it is.”

“And…” Grace continued slowly. “How was it...when you finally did?”

“Did what?”

“Kiss me.”

“Oh,” Frankie bit her lip. “Pretty great. At least I think so. It was too quick to tell.”

“Right,” Grace sighed. “So…if...if I were to let it happen again…”

“Let it?” Frankie balked. “This is a two way street, girly. And I'm not even sure who kissed who at this point. Have you been thinking about it too?”

“I…” Grace felt the world caving in and opening up at the same time. “...I don't know. Maybe.”

“Maybe? This is not the time for maybe. We're a little older than middle school age, Grace. ‘Do you like me? Check yes or no.’ Well which is it? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Frankie’s cheeks burned. “Yes what?”

“Yes…” Grace looked at her timidly. “Yes I've thought about it.”

“Okay,” Frankie swallowed again. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“Can't we just agree it doesn't have to mean anything?”

“You want me to lie? Both of us to lie? I can't do that. I’ve had enough lies for one lifetime, thank you.”

“Not lie, just...just for tonight. It's too much. I don't know how we even got to this place.”

“Hmm, let's see. Your husband kissed my husband, or maybe it was the other way around, I don't actually remember anymore. And then they left us, got married, then you and I moved in together and now we're kissing. See? Full circle.”

“Frankie! Be serious. This is serious for me.”

“For me too,” Frankie told her. “I can't lose you. I won't.”

“You won't,” Grace grabbed her hand, holding it against the sheets. “That's not what this is about. We've come too far for that kind of thinking, I just...tonight, let's just pretend it doesn't have to mean anything, alright? We love each other, we kissed. After everything we've been through I think we're entitled to feel a little crazy…”

“You think this is crazy?”

“I don't know,” Grace shuddered. “All I know is...I've never felt this way before. Not with another woman.”

“Me either,” Frankie sighed. “Gee I'm glad we're talking about this.”

“But what do we do about it?”

“Well,” Frankie blinked, keeping hold of Grace’s hand as she sunk into the pillows. “If nothing means anything, at least not tonight…”

“Right.”

“And...it was such a quick kiss. Maybe it really was nothing.”

“Maybe,” Grace felt her heart fracturing.

“Then...maybe we should kiss again. Just to make sure it didn't really mean anything.”

Grace held her breath. The tiny, plaguing thoughts in the back of her mind had now spilled over into reality. There was no sense in denying it, but she was still reluctant to grapple with the details.

“I guess...that might make sense.”

“Do you really want to?” Frankie looked at her desperately, blue eyes stinging, trying to keep it together.

“Sure,” she agreed. “Yes.”

“You want me to kiss you?”

Grace looked down at their hands, both their knuckles slightly swollen, lined with age and memories and softness, lacing their fingers together, before peering back up, taking a deep breath, nodding slowly.

Frankie reached out, brushing a few loose hairs behind Grace’s ear, smiling so gently, so patiently, before kissing her again.

This time, Grace pressed their lips together deeply, breathing through her nose, wrapping her arms behind Frankie’s back, really going for it, figuring if this was a test she’d better fully commit. Her hands found their way to Frankie’s hair, long, gray curls that smelled deliciously of paint and patchouli, two things Grace never thought she'd come to crave. But she’d been wrong, about so many things.

She held her close, letting their lips speak without speaking, slipping past each other, wet and warm and right, so right, until Frankie’s thumb was smoothing across her chin, her cheekbone, pulling her closer. Grace ran her fingers down Frankie’s arm, finding her hand again, clasping it sweetly, pressing it against her chest as her mouth opened slowly, letting her tongue brush against Frankie’s full bottom lip, to which the other woman moaned, then pushed away again, as if startled by her own reaction.

“Holy Moses,” she gasped.

“You're telling me,” Grace sighed.

“You're really good at this,” Frankie swallowed.

“Thanks,” she laughed. “So are you.”

“More?”

“Uh huh,” Grace gave in, diving forward, capturing Frankie’s lips with an increased fervor and a bit more confidence, sitting up, leaning over her friend so she could see her better in the dark. She coaxed her lips open with her tongue, and Frankie let her in this time, moaning again as they lapped so reverently yet so hungrily at each other, hands traveling to unexpected places, Grace’s leg swinging over Frankie's thighs until she was on top of her. Frankie pressed her fingers into the hollows of Grace’s collarbone, trailing them up her neck, cradling her face as she kissed her again and again, marveling at how freely Grace kissed back.

“Wow you're flexible,” Frankie whispered.

“And you're beautiful,” Grace answered. “I know I haven't told you that nearly enough...but you are. And I will.”

“So much for not meaning anything,” Frankie laughed, pressing their foreheads together.

Grace echoed her laughter, and they continued to kiss, to explore, to fall deeper into the truth, knowing with all certainty that it meant everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Grace’s feet barely touched the steps as she tiptoed downstairs. The house was quiet, save for the sound of running water in the kitchen. Her stomach twisted in knots, head spinning, feeling like her whole world had been turned upside down.

Last night was thrilling, wonderful in many ways, but also insane. _This doesn't make any sense_ , she kept telling herself as Frankie shifted beneath her, kissing with a finesse she never would have expected, but at the same time didn't shock her at all. Frankie was the boldest, most passionate, caring person she knew. Of course she would give herself so fully, so effortlessly, slipping her hands over Grace’s body like she’d been studying the route for some time. Grace did her best to keep up, to give as much as she received, until her mind seized up with fear and forced her to pump the brakes. Still, after what transpired between them, she didn’t think she'd roll over this morning to find herself alone, in an empty bed that was starting to feel so much bigger without another person in it.

As she stepped off the landing, she immediately spotted Frankie at the sink. She was already dressed in her signature overalls, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, one of her orange bandannas sweeping the rest off her face.  
  
"What are you doing?" Grace finally spoke, clearing her throat.

"Dishes,” Frankie answered without turning around.

"I can see that,” Grace continued, peering down into the porcelain bin. “But why?"

"Really?” Frankie huffed as she scrubbed. “You're going to question it now?"

"No, it's...thank you,” she corrected. “I just…I guess I was expecting to find you next to me when I woke up."

"Oh," Frankie paused, swallowing. "Sorry."

She refused to make eye contact, scouring the pot from yesterday’s gumbo with a nervous fury Grace only witnessed when Frankie was really struggling, and it made her heart race with uncertainty.

"Usually when we have our sleepovers you refuse to get out of bed until I do," Grace laughed a little, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter, watching her roommate closely. "And then we have to sing your ‘Rise and Shine Oh Great Spirit of the Universe’ song."

"I sang it,” Frankie nodded. “Twice. You were still asleep."

"Frankie..." Grace exhaled, hesitantly reaching out, letting her hands rest on the other woman’s shoulder. “What are you doing? Are you upset with me?"

"No,” she answered. “I just didn't want to overstay my welcome."

"After you fought so hard to get in?” Grace argued, pulling back. “And I let you in?"

"There you go again,” Frankie rolled her eyes. “‘ _Let_ me.'"

"You know what I mean,” Grace frowned, softening as she stepped closer. “I thought we had fun last night."

Frankie froze. She let the sponge fall into the soapy sink, turning to Grace with eyes as deep as the moon.

"We did have fun,” she sighed.

"Are you having regrets then?" Grace asked a little sheepishly.  
  
"No,” Frankie shook her hands before wiping them on a towel. “I figured you were the one with reservations. You're the one who stopped."

"Stopped?” Grace’s eyebrow rose. “Oh...you mean..."

"We were in the heat of one of the most incredible make out sessions I've ever experienced, and I led a kiss-in with four hundred other couples in the 60s,” Frankie threw the towel on the counter, leaning back against it with her elbows. “Your hands were cupping my breasts and then...you just stopped, said goodnight and went to sleep."

"I was tired,” Grace blushed at the memory, still in shock that she'd done _that_. “And I didn't...didn't want to go too fast. Can you really blame me?"

"Not really,” Frankie shrugged. “But you didn't say that. You just stopped."

"Look...I think we were both moving pretty fast,” Grace admitted, shaking out her hair. “I didn't think either of us was ready for more, and...honestly, Frankie, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Well,” her lips curled up slightly. “That's where talking about it tends to help."

"We can talk!" Grace insisted, straightening her shoulders, ready to dive in. "Let's talk."

Silence.

They both stared at each other blankly, feeling the weight of their decisions, the impact of whatever words they might choose. The kitchen never felt so quiet, the sound of birds in the garden echoing against the walls, sun streaming in on the floor between them.

"Come on, Frankie!” Grace whined. "I don't want things to be weird because of this. We need to act normal."

"You mean like nothing happened?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth!” Grace argued. “That's not what I want."

"What _do_ you want?"

"I don't know,” she shook. "That's just it I...I don't know what comes next. I don't know if this is right or healthy, for either of us...but I do know I liked how I felt last night."

"You did?" Frankie raised a hand to her sternum.

"Yes," Grace smiled gently, moving closer. "Couldn't you tell?"

"Well..." Frankie mused. "There were a few signs."

"I'm sorry I couldn't talk about it last night,” Grace told her, eyes trailing down to her lips, then up again. "But I'm not sorry I stopped. I just think we need to figure out...where we go from here."

"Yes," Frankie whispered. “I’d like that.”

Grace stepped forward. Frankie shut her eyes, refusing to move, taking deep breaths as Grace reached for her hand, watching her painfully, desperately wanting to say and do the right thing.

“Hey, mommograms,” Brianna burst through the back door.

Grace jumped at least three feet in the air, gasping so hard she thought she popped a lung. Frankie quickly slipped out of the way, frantically digging back into the sink for the sponge.

“Brianna, why don't you come in through the front?!” Grace scolded.

"Because, I was supposed to meet this one in her studio, but I checked and she wasn't there. I was afraid dingoes ate my Frankie," she said in an Australian accent, waiting for a laugh that never came. "Sorry. I still have jet lag. And I'm still as single as I was when I flew to Maryland, so...we're all just doing the best we can."

"Amen, sister,” Frankie sighed.  
  
"Wait...were you guys fighting just now?” Brianna questioned, looking back and forth between the them. “Because mom has her ‘Oh shit I fucked up’ face on."

"No I don't,” Grace defended indignantly. “That's just my face."

"Yeah, whatever,” Brianna pulled out her phone. “Go ahead. I have emails to check. I can wait for you to kiss and makeup."

Frankie dropped a plate into the sink so hard it crashed loudly against the other dishes, sending water splashing across the counter.

"I think we're fine,” Grace swallowed. “For now. Right, Frankie?"

"Right."

“Okay then, let's get to work. I have to meet up with Bud for some clandestine lunch at a place in Logan Heights. He's very mysterious these days.”

“What are you two working on?” Grace asked curiously.

“I asked her to help me with some financial planning,” Frankie toweled off before crossing into the living room. “I wanted to get things in order before I left for…”

Grace quickly looked down at her feet, the thought of Frankie actually going still making her chest burn.

“But since I'm staying…” Frankie caught herself. “...we have all the time in the world.”

“Well, not too much,” Brianna reminded. “I still have a life. And a dog…”

“Shouldn't I be there too?” Grace noted. “I'm assuming some of it has to do with the loan.”

“Yes, good point,” Brianna clapped her hands together. “Two birds, one Brianna. I like. Let's do this.”

"You two get started,” Grace waved at them. “I’m going to get changed, and then I'll make us some coffee and finish the dishes."

"Thank you,” Frankie smiled softly.

“Did you take your pills yet?" Grace asked.

"Yes, dear," Frankie batted her lashes facetiously, taking her seat at the table. "Thank you, dear."

"See, you two are like an old married couple,” Brianna shook her head, pulling the files out of her briefcase. “Only without the burden of marriage. Or sex. But who needs sex, right? No one, that's who.”  
  
Grace caught Frankie’s eye again, both their cheeks flushed.

She bit her lip, selfishly wishing Brianna wasn't there as she headed back upstairs, hoping they'd return to their conversation as soon as she left.

* * *

“Is that really the last box?” Mallory asked the movers as they set the contents of her life next to the other mountain of stuff in the otherwise empty living room. “Thank you!”

“Hey, Maddy, what do you call a man with no shins?” Coyote came crawling out of the bedroom, one baby strapped to his back, the other to his chest.

“What!?” the little girl squealed.

“Tony!” he shouted. “Get it? Like...toe-knee…”

Madison rolled her eyes, hopping like a bunny across the apartment towards her brother, who was reading quietly in a corner.

“Her taste in comedy is a little more high brow these days,” Mallory whispered, shutting the door as the last of the movers made their exit. “But hey, thank you so, so much for watching them today. I could not have done this without you.”

“Of course,” Coyote pushed up to his feet. “I mean, it's hard enough downsizing with everything else you've got going on. It's the least I can do.”

“You have no idea how much I appreciate it,” Mallory swallowed, trying not to break down again for the third time that day.

“You know…” he moved a little closer, lowering his voice. “I'm kind of surprised Mitch didn't give you guys the house though.”

“He tried,” she corrected. “I'm the one who wanted a fresh start. That place was just so huge and cold and...full of broken dreams and sour memories. I couldn't see myself living there alone with the kids.”

“Well, this place is great,” Coyote smiled. “Although I guess I am gonna have to find somewhere else to park my tiny house.”

“Sorry about that,” Mallory winced.

“It's okay,” he laughed. “Hey, Macklin, what do you say we paint your new room Ninja Turtle green?”

“I _hate_ Ninja Turtles!” the kid sulked, throwing his book at the nearest wall.

“Honey, no,” Mallory shook her head. “Don't do that, please.”

Macklin picked up the book and stomped down the hall, slamming a door behind him.

“It's really hitting him hard, huh?” Coyote swallowed.

“The hardest,” Mallory sighed.

“I should probably get going,” he started to unclip the first twin from his chest. “Leave you guys to…”

“No, wait,” Mallory grabbed his shoulder. “Please...stay. You're so good with him, all of them really. Think you could stick around through dinner?”

“Sure,” he agreed eagerly, bouncing a little, trying to calm Mazie as he watched his ex-girlfriend browse through the take out menus she’d collected for her new neighborhood, figuring it really was the least he could do.

* * *

“Budless,” Brianna greeted him at the table. “This place is like the racist Disney interpretation of a Mexican restaurant. I'm waiting for an animatronic waitress to pop out and take our order. What are we doing here?”

“Having lunch,” he poured her a margarita from the pitcher. “And it's not that bad, honestly. The food is really good.”

“Hmm, I'll let my toilet be the judge of that,” she squinted at the menu.

“Anyway, thanks for taking time out of your bi-coastal romance to meet me here,” he continued.

“Um, it's no-coastal, but sure,” she sipped her drink. “No problem.”

“Really? Barry didn't take you back?”

“I don't think his new girlfriend was into the idea.”

“Oh…well dang,” he sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” she waved him off. “What's up with you? And don't say nothing, because people who aren't going through some kind of emotional crisis don't order a pitcher of margaritas at 11 a.m. on a work day in the sketchiest place on Earth.”

“Look…” he swallowed, leaning back in his chair. “I don't know how else to say this, so…”

“Just say it,” she shrugged. “Or don't…”

“You've been a real bitch about Allison ever since we started dating.”

“Ouch…” Brianna blinked. “That's not...inaccurate, I suppose.”

“No, it's highly, highly accurate.”

“Wait, why are you singling me out? Mallory and Coyote haven't been any better.”

“First of all, that's a terrible defense, and second, yes they have, even marginally so. You're the worst, Brianna.”

“Jesus,” she shrunk away. “I hope you're at least planning on buying me lunch after this.”

“I'm sorry, but it's true,” he shook his head. “It's also true that you and I have been friends for a really long time, and I value your opinion more than I care to admit.”

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow. “Could have fooled me, what with the ‘bitch’ and all.”

“I know we haven't gotten along that well recently, but in general...yes. I do.”

“Okay, now you're starting to freak me out,” she reached for a tortilla chip, dunking it in guacamole. “Did you kill someone? Or did Allison kill someone? Are you about to skip town like the nerdiest, least street-wise version of Bonnie and Clyde, because I’m not sure I'm down with orchestrating your cover story if…”

“Neither of us killed anyone,” Bud cut her off, taking a deep breath, shutting his eyes, summoning all his strength before opening them again. “We're pregnant.”

“Oh,” her eyes went wide, lips pursed as she let that sink in, dropping her chip on the table. “Fuck…”

“Yeah,” he rocked a little in his chair.

“And you're telling _me_ first?” she scowled. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, Brianna…” he raised his voice a little, lowering it again. “No one...not one person...in this family, likes my girlfriend. So I figured start with the epicenter of hate and everyone else from there should be way easier.”

“Bud, I don't hate your girlfriend,” Brianna balked. “I don't care enough about her to…”

“Gee, that's better.”

“I'm sorry, I…” she began to fidget. “I don't know what you want me to say. I don't hate her. No one does. Do I think she’s sane? No, but neither are you, so…”

“I don't know why I thought this was a good idea,” he started to get up.

“No, Bud, wait…” Brianna stopped him. “I do care about you, I just...you know how I feel about kids. I'm not sure what you want me to...”

“Tell me I'm not crazy.”

“I don't know if I can,” she sighed. “I mean, maybe that's why you wanted to tell me first, because you knew this would be my reaction and maybe it mirrors your own.”

“Once again, not helpful,” Bud insisted. “And anyway, it's not a question of whether or not we have the kid. We're having it. It's more…”

“More what?”

“I don't know if I can spend the rest of my life being the butt of everyone’s jokes,” he exhaled. “I don't know if I want Allison to have to suffer through that either.”

“Bud, that's not how it works,” Brianna shook her head. “If you love someone it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.”

“But she deserves real support, not a bunch of people who merely tolerate her presence while secretly engaging in drinking games about her quirks right under her nose.”

“We’ll stop that,” she agreed firmly. “I'll stop it.”

“You will?”

“Yes,” she promised. “I can't say I'll never make fun of her again, but I will stop being so open about it.”

“Thank you,” Bud nodded. “That's a start.”

“So...you're gonna be a daddy?” she cringed.

“I don't like the way it sounds when you say daddy,” he chewed his lip. “It's weird.”

“Only if you make it weird,” she rolled her eyes. “I guess...I can do my best to be happy for you.”

“That means a lot, Brianna” he smiled slightly.

“Good,” she smiled back for a moment, before sitting up tall, taking a handful of chips, smashing them in her fist and then crumbling them over the guac. “Now where is our fucking server?”

* * *

That evening, Grace waited hours for Frankie to come home. She sat in front of the TV, watching some mindless reality show, too lost in her own thoughts to change the channel. After their meeting earlier in the day, Frankie had asked Brianna to drop her off at a new farmer’s market, one that didn't have a yam booth manned by her ex-boyfriend. Grace offered to take her instead, but she said she was fine, that she had lots of errands to run and would take an Uber home. She was still afraid to drive herself since the stroke, and Grace tried not to hover too much, knowing she needed to feel strong and independent in her own right again.

Still, it was pretty clear at this point that Frankie was avoiding her, and that made Grace feel like crawling up the wall. Usually Frankie jumped at the opportunity to spend time together. No matter how boring the errands, they always found a way to make them fun, even if Frankie’s idea of fun involved shopping cart races through the Trader Joe’s parking lot.

Grace started to think maybe this was all her fault, that she'd complicated things by not pushing Frankie away like she’d done all those other times she made a joking pass at her, or at least what Grace thought were jokes. There had been so many ambiguous moments, so many nuances she'd chosen to laugh off, but none of that was funny now. None of it was going away either, and truthfully, Grace didn't want it to.

She thought back to her conversation with Sol a few weeks ago as they were boxing up vibrators. He asked what she wanted in the future, and honestly, all Grace could see was Frankie and the business. He suggested dating, but even just the thought made her angry, resistant, terrified of explaining why she didn't care about men anymore. It wasn't her shutting down. It wasn't the fear of trying again after what happened with Phil. It was different this time, more like apathy, or exhaustion. She’d had men in the palm of her hand her whole life. It was never hard to find someone who wanted her, and if she really was lonely, she knew she could nab another man to fill that void in a heartbeat.

But the truth was, that void didn't exist anymore. It had gradually closed up, healed with hours sitting on the back porch smoking pot and listening to the ocean, laughing and reminiscing and making plans for Sunday dinner. It had been replaced with say yes nights and pottery classes and shared holidays, yogurt runs and movie marathons and margarita parties for two. There wasn't room for anyone else, and she liked it that way, preferred it, actually, to any other possibility that may have been out there.

Deep down, Grace knew it didn't matter what anyone else thought, but she also knew people would judge. She could only imagine what her friends would say about this, let alone her family. Not caring about other people’s perceptions was never her strong suit, but when she had Frankie by her side, she felt braver, more willing to live a life that didn't fit anyone else’s definition of full or normal. That was all she needed, and more importantly, all she wanted.

Frankie, on the other hand, had Jacob until now. Grace remembered their conversation about it, right before the stroke in the car that day. She'd acted like a jealous teenager, yelling at her best friend for considering her boyfriend over her. Grace knew it sounded ridiculous, but only because she wasn't willing to speak the truth yet. Frankie asked for that truth so many times, asked her to admit how much their relationship really meant, and Grace couldn't do it. She also asked what would have happened if things worked out with Phil, and Grace didn't know the answer to that either. Part of her believed she and Phil were always doomed to fail, that she just needed closure. Even if they had made a go of it, she couldn't fathom not living in that beach house, having the comfort, the joy of Frankie’s presence in her life on a daily basis, no matter how crazy that was.

 _Straight women don't think like this_ , she told herself. Then again, she'd heard of women who prioritized friendships over romance, but that had never been her. She didn’t want to forgo one for the other, and she was starting to think maybe she didn't have to. She wanted both, but what that meant and how far she was really willing to take it was still the scariest thing she'd faced in her whole life, and it didn't just depend on her. It depended on the woman just arriving back in her studio, lugging groceries in like she'd visited every farmer’s market in San Diego until they were fresh out of produce.

Grace got up from her chair in the living room, making her way across the courtyard when she saw the light come on, knocking as she opened the door.

“Where have you been?” she swallowed, trying not to bark. “I mean…”

“I told you, I had errands,” Frankie began unpacking her reusable bags, spreading carrots and yams and a few half eaten apples across the table, peppering them in with paintbrushes and magazine clippings.

“Looks to me like you had just one very long errand,” Grace crossed her arms. “Did you like the new market?”

“It was fine,” Frankie shrugged. “I found a new supplier, though Jacob did say he’d be willing to continue. It's only for my personal supply anyway since Brianna cut me out of the lube deal, so that shouldn't be too many yams, in theory...”

She continued flitting around the small space, stashing away bags of nuts and granola, moving so fast, like if she stopped for a second she might not be able to start back up again. Grace watched her, breath growing shallower, getting more and more anxious by the second. Her heart pounded in her ears, making her dizzy, until she couldn't take it anymore.

“Frankie!” she shouted, catching her shoulders with both hands. “Look at me, please!”

“Stop yelling,” Frankie pulled away.

“Why are you doing this?” Grace panted. “Don't you think I'm freaking out too? I need you to talk to me.”

“I want to talk to you,” Frankie swallowed, dropping the rest of her bags on the floor. “I just…”

“What?” Grace asked after a moment.

“I'm afraid,” Frankie finally looked up to her eyes. “Afraid of learning to need you in ways you won't want me to. Afraid of...you pushing me away again eventually.”

“It's too late for that,” Grace shook her head. “I do need you, Frankie. And I want you. I won't push you away.”

“But that's what always happens,” Frankie argued. “It happens with me. It happened with Guy…”

“Guy?” Grace looked at her with surprise. “What does Guy have to do with...”

“You tell me,” she shrugged.

“That was different," Grace insisted. "That was  _not_ this. Nothing is.”

“God I wish I'd known that sooner,” Frankie swallowed. “The only reason I even went after Jacob was because you encouraged me to, because you had Guy, and now I’ve hurt him too.”

“How is any of that my fault?” Grace argued. “How could I possibly have known that's what you were doing?”

“But you didn't really love Guy, did you?” Frankie went on, ignoring her. “And then there was Phil, and now Nick…”

“Nick?!” Grace interrupted. “Nick is a total jackass.”

“Yes, but you still flirted with him to get what you want," Frankie accused. "And maybe we haven't even gotten everything we want from him yet.”

“Frankie, this is ridiculous!” Grace practically exploded. “I have no interest in Nick. I have no interest in anyone else, can't you see that!?”

“Why are you still yelling?” Frankie closed her eyes. “It really wigs me out.”

“I'm...I’m not,” Grace straightened out her white collared shirt, lowering her voice. “I'm not yelling _at_ you. I'm telling you how much I...”

“This time," Frankie cut her off. "I've been on the receiving end of your drunken rants. I refuse to be treated that way. I refuse to be yelled at by someone I...” she paused, swallowing hard as she swayed a little. “...someone I could give my whole heart to.”

Grace felt like she'd been kicked in the gut, even as her cheeks glowed.

This was the strangest fight she’d ever had with anyone. She knew she had a temper, that she could be insensitive and downright mean. She'd beaten herself up about it, self-medicated way too many times to pretend it wasn't true. But here Frankie was, still there, still listening, telling her the things she’d been longing to hear.

“I…” Grace started. “I am so sorry...again...for all the times I was unfair to you. All the times I hurt you. I know I crossed the line...but I am committed to never doing that again.”

“I want to believe you,” Frankie breathed. “I do believe you, but I think...I think it's going to take some time for me to trust, without letting myself get...too close too fast. Because I can't get hurt again, Grace. I’ve only really been in love, deep, life-affirming love once in my life, and when that ended, it nearly broke me. You saw it.”

“I did,” Grace shook, eyes welling up. “And I don't want to hurt you. You know that. I've _never,_ ever wanted that. You're my best friend, and...I know I'm not the greatest person in the world, but I really try hard to…”

“Yes you are,” Frankie moved closer. “You are the greatest, to me.”

“But I...I drink too much and I shout too much and I know I'm not the best mother or grandmother or friend…” Grace began to break down, tears coming in full.

“Yes you are,” Frankie grabbed her shoulders, tracing her fingers down her arms. “If you weren't, I wouldn't be with you. Yes, you can be difficult. We both can, but I've always known you loved me. I've always known you’d be there when I needed you most, that you were just scared of letting another person in. But I'm here, Grace. I'm here...and I love you.”

“I'm so sorry,” Grace shook. “I'm sorry…”

Frankie pulled her close, wrapping her arms behind her back, pressing her face into her hair.

“Shhhh,” she whispered against her ear. “It's okay. I'm sorry too.”

“You've always...always been better than me at this...” she shuddered.

“No I haven't,” Frankie told her. “Stop that.”

“It's true,” Grace nodded. “I've never...never been good enough…”

“Will you knock it off?” she said sweetly, taking Grace’s face in her hands as she smiled. “You _are_ good enough. You're amazing.”

“You really think so?”

“Okay, now you're fishing,” Frankie smirked. “But yes. And if...if we’re really going to do this, all I’m saying is that you're gonna have to be a little nicer to me from now on. That’s not such a stretch, is it? Do you think you can do that?”

Grace nodded furiously, shutting her eyes, letting Frankie wipe away her tears.

“I know I can,” she exhaled. “You know...you're not the first person to tell me I didn't know how to love unconditionally. Brianna...she said it's because I'm not very unconditional with myself.”

“She's so wise,” Frankie smiled. “When she's not being a Grade A bitch.”

“Yeah,” Grace laughed. “But she was right about that. I know I have a lot of work to do on myself, but I'm hoping...you’ll be willing to be there with me...just like you always have.”

“ _Just_ like it?” Frankie breathed, tracing her fingers across her cheek.

“Well,” Grace smiled, blushing hard. “Maybe some things might change.”

Frankie leaned their foreheads together. Grace shut her eyes again, relishing the closeness, brushing her nose against Frankie’s nose, letting her hands come up to her cheeks, her chin. Without overthinking it, she kissed her softly, shoulders relaxing when she felt the kiss returned, lips pressing against Frankie’s full pout, taking in all she could, tasting her own tears as they breathed each other in for a few moments. Frankie held her face so gently, kissing back, before pulling away.

“Do you want to come up to my room?” Grace exhaled.

“Not tonight,” Frankie whispered shakily. “You might not want me there all the time, and I...I tend to develop habits pretty fast, so…”

“I understand,” Grace told her, taking her hands, holding them in her own. “We’ll take this slow...whatever  _this_ is.”

“Exactly,” Frankie smiled. “No need to worry, so long as you're still my best friend.”

“Always,” Grace smiled as she laughed, kissing Frankie’s hands before letting go, stepping back towards the door, leaning against it. “Goodnight, Frankie.”

“Goodnight,” she breathed.  
  
Grace returned to the house, feeling lighter and heavier and way too many things at once, hoping with every ounce of her soul that this was the start of a new chapter, for her, for both of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love so far! Hope you enjoy this next part (:

Frankie felt like her head was no longer attached to her body. Some days were like that, mostly after a few too many bong rips. But this...this was not that.

Ever since she kissed Grace, or Grace kissed her, or whatever combination of fear and desire conspired to bring their bodies together, she could think of nothing else. _This is so not wise_ , kept telling herself like a hopeless mantra, trying to talk herself out of it, which was ridiculous because she had been fully, deeply in it long before the kiss. She didn't know exactly when, but it had been a while, and it was too late now to turn back. She'd tried the whole denial thing, and that, like always, blew up in the most spectacularly painful of ways, wounding another person in the process. A very kind person, one whose yams were delicious and whose company made her feel safe and cared for, if not totally excited or inspired.

These were crazy times, and Frankie stuck to her mission of establishing new boundaries with Grace as best she could, given that she now knew what kissing Grace felt like. Frankie wasn't sure she'd ever been kissed like that, not even by Sol. Not that there was anything wrong with the way he kissed, or their lovemaking. What they had was beautiful, even if her memories of it had been tainted by lies. But their last time together wasn't the only time it felt forced, polite more than passionate, like something they both felt they should do because that's what people who loved each other did. They were so young when they met, and it had been fun then, full of laughter and experimentation. But over time it grew into more of a meditation on their commitment, a spiritual exercise rather than true worship of each other’s physical and emotional forms, and truly, Frankie longed for both.

With Grace, ironically, she felt worshipped. Even in the briefest of moments they’d shared so far, Frankie felt more ecstatic, more alive than she had with anyone in years. Grace oozed sexuality. She was full of fire, sometimes too much, playful and eager, at least until her head got too involved. She was soft and firm in all the best places, incredibly sweet and a huge pain in the ass, a gorgeous mess of contradictions. She was also shockingly strong for a woman made of toothpicks, but that was a good thing, because Frankie never felt as unsteady on her feet as she did these days.

It wasn't just Grace. The stroke had knocked her back more than she was willing to admit. She was recovering slowly but surely, but it was still a process. It certainly made her not want to waste any more time, but that's exactly what she'd asked Grace for: time. That was the only way she could think to protect herself, even if she knew her heart was already too far gone to put a fence around. Grace and her stupid soft skin and comically chiseled cheekbones had done Frankie in, not to mention the exquisite way she smelled, her persistent nagging, her intense desire to look out for her, or the indescribable bliss and relief she felt just being in Grace’s presence. That was why it hurt so much to not spend every waking moment together lately, but that's what Frankie needed, and she figured it was about time she took charge of her own needs for once.

“Good morning,” Grace greeted cheerfully as she came downstairs, fully dressed for the day. “What is that?”

“A peanut butter and banana smoothie,” Frankie shared, flinging another scoop into the blender.

“That's not a smoothie,” Grace debated, smirking as she shook her head. “That's a liquefied sandwich.”

“Well you don't have to eat it,” Frankie retorted. “I made eggs too if you want some of those.”

“Thanks, but I'm meeting Robert for breakfast,” she told her, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge.

“Oh. Okay.” Frankie deflated. “That's sweet, actually, you two spending time together.”

“Never thought you'd see the day, did you?”

“Definitely not,” Frankie smiled. “Not even in one of my vision quests.”

“I'll be home later though,” Grace stood at a safe distance, perched at the other end of the island. “What about you?”

“Not sure yet,” Frankie sighed. “Coyote asked if I could help him scout some locations for his tiny house. I don't know how long that will take.”

“Ah, got it,” Grace smiled sweetly, backing away. “I guess I'll just...see you when I see you then.”

“You will,” Frankie nodded. “I'm never that far.”

Grace looked like she wanted to say more, so much more. Her forehead was all crinkled, eyes so sad and blue, it took everything Frankie had not to scoop her up and make her see how badly she wanted things to be okay, wanted to skip ahead to the good parts. But this was healthy, for now. This was the way it needed to be.

“Alright then,” Grace headed for the front of the house. “See you later.”

“Alligator,” Frankie couldn't resist, shutting her eyes when she heard the door close.

She flipped on the blender, drowning out her self-pitying thoughts with the sound, letting it run a little longer than she normally would have, until the substance was good and mixed. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she began pouring it into the tallest glass she could find, but soon enough she heard knocking.

“Did your forget your keys again?!” she shouted as she grinned, slowly making her way to the front door. “I knew you wanted a smoothie too. Good thing I made extra…”

She halted immediately when she turned the corner, spying Jacob on the other side of the glass, heart catapulting into her throat.

Her first impulse was to hide, duck behind the sofa and pretend she wasn't home, but he'd already seen her. He was waving in fact, smiling just enough to show he wasn't there to make her life miserable, as far as she could tell. That wasn't Jacob’s style anyway, but she still hadn't expected to see him just yet. That wasn't in the plan for today.

“Hey,” she swallowed as she opened the door.

“Hi there,” he breathed. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she stepped aside, letting him pass through the hall, following him into the kitchen as she fidgeted. “Grace isn't here. Not that...that matters, I mean...just, in case you were…”

“I know,” he nodded. “I saw her car pull out of the driveway as I was coming down the street.”

“Oh. Well...good.”

“I figured you'd be in here making one of your famous smoothies,” he smiled sadly. “I just wanted to bring some of your stuff back.”

He handed her the box he’d been carrying. She hadn't even noticed it at first.

“My geodes,” she set the contents on the counter. “I guess I do leave a trail of them everywhere I go, don't I?”

“You do.”

“You know, chrysocolla is really good for balancing the Earth energies in the home. That's why I put it in the northeast corner. Are you sure you don't want…”

“No,” he shook his head. “Thank you though.”

“What about my throat singing tape?” she lifted it out of the box. “I thought you said they made the yams bigger and more...yammy.”

“Frankie,” he exhaled, leaning against the counter with one hand. “I can’t.”

“Can't what?” she questioned. “Let the yams get any bigger? Are they taking over the other crops? Are they sprouting legs and threatening to take _you_ over? Because legend has it…”

“No,” he put a hand on her shoulder, grimacing before pulling away. “I can't...do _this_.”

“Oh,” she whispered, her best efforts to dodge this awkwardness averted. “I get it.”

He stared at her for a few moments, as if he were questioning all her decisions, giving her one of those looks that made her feel like she'd kicked a giant puppy, or maybe several dozen puppies. It was almost more than she could take.

“Jacob...” she swallowed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did over the phone. But I had to do it.”

“It wasn't much of a surprise, honestly,” he admitted. “When I saw you the last time, you made it pretty clear where you stood.”

“I know,” she nodded. “But still, I...”

“I guess…” he continued wearily. “I just thought we really had something. I thought...well, I was pretty sure you loved me.”

“I did,” she sighed painfully. “I do.”

“But?” he tried to help her out.

“But…” she swallowed harder, not wanting to say it, but knowing she needed to. “...not in the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Because you love someone else?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

She froze, a wave of fear and nerves crashing through her, the voices in her head silenced by the accusation. She was in no way ready to acknowledge her feelings to the outside world, not to anyone other than the “someone else” in question, but she figured if Jacob was asking, if he already knew, the least she could do was be honest. She would have wanted the same.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes back up to him, taking a deep breath, before nodding yes.

“Well,” he sighed. “That's how this all started too, isn't it? Except with Sol? Your heart was never completely in it. At least I know it now.”

“I'm sorry,” she repeated.

“I know,” he breathed. “I just hope you're not repeating patterns.”

“Me too,” Frankie held her hand to her sternum, clutching the amethyst hanging around her neck. “But I think this is different.”

“I hope so,” he nodded. “For your sake.”

“Can we be friends?” she asked. “Please?”

“I don't think we can,” he told her flatly, but kindly. “At least...not now. Maybe one day.”

“I'd like that,” she swallowed back tears. “I never meant to hurt you, Jacob.”

“I know,” he smiled softly, reaching for her shoulder again. “Take care, Frankie.”

“You too,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, before letting go.

She watched him walk out the door, closing it behind him, leaving her alone with her smoothie and a new sense of closure, but no less hurt.

She took a long, decadent gulp of her creation, making her way to the living room, opening the doors, letting the warm breeze, the smell of salt wash over her. There was at least an hour until she had to pick up Coyote. She took a seat on one of her fluffiest floor cushions, breathing in the ocean, breathing out the pain, hoping the voices in her head would stay silent until they were ready to tell her it was okay to move forward.

* * *

“A Bloody Mary on a weekday?” Grace laughed, draping her napkin over her lap. “Someone really has changed.”

“Retirement does funny things to you,” Robert shrugged.

“What's my excuse then?” she smirked.

“Oh, you've never needed an excuse to drink, my dear.”

“Are you suggesting I have a problem?”

“Have I ever?” he defended grandiosely, clutching his chest. “Come now, Grace. You know I don't judge.”

She laughed a little harder, shaking her head as she sipped her martini under the midmorning sun, marveling at how easy this was now that they were divorced.

“You mentioned you and Sol we're thinking about traveling,” she noted. “Where are you headed?”

“Japan,” he shared. “By way of South Korea.”

“Seriously?” her eyes went wide. “Well...that's exciting. Too bad you never wanted to go anywhere like that when we were together.”

He fell silent, looking down at his plate as he cut through his eggs benedict.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I guess if we're gonna be friends I shouldn’t say things like that anymore. I'll stop.”

“I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” she smiled brightly. “I'm happy for you, really.”

“Thank you, Grace,” he bowed. “You look happy too, by the way. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time.”

“Thanks,” she blushed a bit, quickly turning back to her yogurt and toast. “I am happy, or at least...trying to be.”

“Did you meet someone new?”

She felt her blood pressure rise, remedying it with another sip of vodka.

“Sort of,” she sipped, eyes shifting away.

“Anyone I know?”

“I'm not really ready to talk about it,” she dodged. “And please don't say anything to the kids.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he assured. “But whatever it is you're doing...or dare I say whoever…”

“ _Stop_ ,” she hushed, turning even redder.

“I'm just saying,” he grinned wryly. “Keep doing it.”

“God, you're such a…a...”

“Bitch?” he boasted. “You can call me that. I don't mind.”

“I was going to say jerk, but sure, bitch will do,” she shook her head. “Christ, you're gay. If you had just been honest, think of how much fun we could have had all these years.”

“Well I'm glad we're starting now,” he said, lifting his drink. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” she smiled, letting their glasses clink.

She watched him for a while, studying his mannerisms, the way he spoke, so much more comfortable in his own skin than she'd ever seen him in the forty years they were married. It was a gift, actually, getting to witness someone she knew so well live their life exactly the way they wanted.

“That reminds me,” she started again, clearing her throat. “You never told me when you knew.”

“About Korea?”

“No,” she rolled her eyes. “About being gay.”

“Oh,” he laughed, dabbing his napkin to his lips. “That.”

“We've never talked about it, you and I,” she swallowed. “I think...part of me was afraid of knowing. But I'm not anymore.”

“Well,” he sipped his Bloody Mary. “I had inklings pretty early on, like most people. There were a few boys in high school, captain of the football team. I'm afraid it's terribly cliché.”

“So then...” she treaded carefully. “When you decided to be with me...was it just...convenience? Fear?”

“In part,” he acknowledged. “But I also did think you were an astonishing woman. Still do. If I was going to live a lie with anyone, it may as well have been you.”

“Thanks,” she swallowed. “I guess.”

“Look,” he reached for her hand across the table, taking it gently. “I didn't loathe being with you. We had a lot of good times together. I enjoyed you...as much as I could.”

“But you were never really fulfilled,” she nodded. “I get it.”

“Do you?” he smiled. “I'm not even sure I do sometimes. It's all so complicated, much more so than I ever imagined. Sol, for instance, didn't figure it out until much later.”

“Really?”

“Well, so he says. But I think he was always more comfortable, more forgiving of his own thoughts and proclivities. Clearly, he and Frankie were happy for a very long time. It was much less black and white for him. You see, sexuality tends to run on a spectrum…”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she stopped him. “Everyone loves the spectrum.”

“Sorry,” he pulled away slowly. “You don't really need a whole lecture about this.”

“No, it's alright,” she blinked. “I'm the one who asked.”

“I'm glad you did,” he smiled again. “And if you have any other questions, don't ever hesitate to ask them.”

“Will you bring me back a kimono?” she smirked.

“Of course,” he laughed, digging back into his eggs. “So, Frankie’s staying in town. Business is booming. Tell me more about all of that.”

“Okay,” Grace softened a little further.

She continued watching him as they talked, filled with awe and gratitude for their rekindled friendship, for a familiar shoulder to lean on, even if she wasn’t quite yet ready to take it.

* * *

“What do you think about the park in El Cajon?” Coyote asked, scooping a giant gob of ice cream into his mouth, watching the skateboarders pop ollies along the curb in front of them.

“I don't know, honey. I'm not sure you want to test those zoning laws,” Frankie warned, stealing a lick of sprinkles from her cone. “I'm usually all for chaining one’s self to whatever piece of land speaks to you. None of us can ever really own it anyway. It was stolen to begin with.”

“Exactly!” he agreed.

“But you've had enough troubles for one lifetime,” she squeezed his shoulder. “I’d rather see you settled someplace safe.”

“That might mean looking into the community up in Escondido,” he squinted against the sun. “It's pretty far, but I guess I could still ride my bike to work. I'd be in really good shape.”

“You're already in good shape.”

“I don't know,” he sighed. “I thought this tiny house thing was a good idea at the time, but it's really hard.”

“I admire you for trying,” she told him earnestly. “You're helping make up for the rest of our carbon footprints. I bet you've already saved us a few years living on this planet before we have to build a colony on Mars.”

“You think?” he looked up at her, scooting a little closer on the bench. “Maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll keep looking, but I'm kind of running out of time. Mitch left a whole pile of garbage on my porch the other night.”

“He’s still giving you shit?” she balked. “What an asshole. Mallory’s so much better off without him, though I don't envy her with four little ones in that apartment.”

“She likes it, actually,” he grinned. “She says it forces them to spend more time together. Plus, I showed her how to make the best pillow forts for indoor camping.”

“You did?” she smiled curiously. “That was sweet.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “They're a lot of fun.”

“Just be careful,” she leaned into him. “I know it's never been easy watching her with someone else, and now that's she’s free...”

“Mom, we're just friends,” he insisted. “She really needs a friend right now, and I'm cool with being that person.”

“You're a good boy, Coyote,” she put her arm around him, kissing his temple.

“I'm a man,” he reminded as he beamed. “But thanks.”

He sat up a little taller, taking another bite of his ice cream as skateboards flew through the air before landing back on solid ground.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Allison laughed nervously, taking careful steps as she allowed Bud to guide her, hands covering her eyes. “You know my equilibrium is off more than usual. I can't even smell anything, but that's because I can't see. They're connected, sight and smell. For me, not for everyone.”

“Just a little further,” he told her, helping her sit on the bed. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay,” she swallowed. “But I have to warn you, if this is some kind of sex or food thing, or sexy food thing, I'm really not feeling up for either of those right now.”

“I know,” he breathed. “Alright, go ahead. Open them.”

She slowly peeked, readjusting to the light, until her eyes focused on the gift sitting in front of the window. Her jaw dropped.

“It's…” she couldn't believe it. “Are you...are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure,” he sat next to her, taking her hand. “If you're ready.”

“Oh my god,” she laughed as she teared up. “He’s gonna love it so much! Thank you.”

“Take a closer look,” he nudged.

Allison stood carefully, admiring the cat tree in all it's three-leveled, beige-carpeted glory. She ran her hands over the sides, playing with the feather on a spring, sticking her head through one of the cubby holes, until she came to the set of strings dangling from the top. There, attached to the end of one of the those strings, was another gift, one just for her.

“Oh...” her breath caught, a bit stunned.

Bud rushed to her side, afraid she was about to pass out, steadying her from behind.

“Is that...” she continued.

“I know we weren't ready to do this just yet,” he spoke softly, removing the ring from its tether, taking her hand again before dropping to one knee. “But it was going to happen eventually. Because...I love you, Allison. In all your wild, incredibly unique and patient and…”

“Just to be clear, are you asking me to marry you or move in?”

“Both,” he laughed. “If I can finish first.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, go ahead.”

“Allison,” he breathed. “I love you. Please, will you...and you,” he kissed her stomach. “...and Gregory move in with me? And then yeah, let's get married. What do you say?”

“Yes!” she squeaked, pulling him to his feet, kissing him a million times. “Yes, you crazy, crazy man.”

“As long as I'm your kind of crazy," he whispered, holding her face in his hands.

She laughed through grateful tears, kissing him hard, pulling him onto the bed, not even caring that he’d forgotten to use the fabric softener that made her less itchy.

* * *

Frankie sat alone in her studio, finishing up her second helping of vindaloo as she stared at the painting of Grace with fangs and her signature martini. It wasn’t a surprise this one didn’t sell. It was so specific, more a personal reflection on their first few months living together than a true representation of the woman it supposedly captured. She felt bad about it now honestly, even if she did stand by its artistic merit. But the image didn’t match how she really felt, not at all. Grace was much too multifaceted to be portrayed like this, memorialized for all eternity as a monster. _No_ , she thought. _This isn’t right_. She had to do something.

“Grace?” she picked up her walkie talkie. “Are you home? Over.”

A few seconds passed, long, painful seconds. It was the first time she reached out after so many days of only seeing each other in passing. Frankie was afraid maybe she’d waited too long, that Grace had already changed her mind about everything. That would have been killer, but she was prepared for any scenario at this point.

“Yes, I’m here,” the familiar voice finally came through. “Over.”

“Oh good,” Frankie swallowed, shifting on her stool. “I was thinking...I’m gonna need to paint you again one of these days.”

“Really?” Grace answered. “Another addition to the Grace Hanson vampire series? I’ll pass.”

“Not like that,” Frankie insisted. “I mean really paint you. Have you pose for me.”

“Oh...” Grace’s voice fell quieter. “That’s...I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Frankie continued. “I promise to have you sit in the very best lighting. And you can take breaks. I work pretty fast though, so it should only take...I don’t know, maybe three days?”

“ _Ha_ ,” Grace laughed sarcastically. “Well...maybe one day, when things aren’t so busy, I’ll consider it. You do realize we still have a business to run, don’t you? We haven’t gotten any work done in ages.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Frankie argued. “Everyone needs a break now and then. We have our distributor. Things are up and running.”

“I'm glad you feel so confident,” Grace swallowed. “The lawsuit really knocked me off my game.”

“But that's all settled now,” Frankie reminded. “And I don’t think you were ever off your game. You played the game just fine from my perspective, even if it did make me crazy jealous.”

“Hey, I stole the man’s _balloon_ for you,” Grace defended. “You don't have to worry about that anymore, at all. Okay?”

Frankie bit her lip, listening to Grace try to soothe her worries while staring at the the portrait of her pale face, collar arched like a super villain. She turned away quickly, crossing to the other side of the studio.

“Okay,” she shrugged, falling onto the bed. “I guess...I can learn to let it go.”

“Excellent,” Grace sighed. “Do you think you could learn to have a conversation in person again too?”

“You know I want to,” Frankie breathed.

“I know,” Grace swallowed. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing. Teasing is still okay, right?”

“Yes, teasing is fine,” Frankie smirked. “Teasing is preferred, actually. To a point.”

"I just think it's funny you're putting up boundaries now," Grace told her. “But I get it, trust me.”

“Thank you,” Frankie exhaled, shutting her eyes. “I just...I don’t want to get hurt.”

“I know,” Grace whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You sort of have a track record of sending people on their way,” Frankie spoke honestly, emboldened by the distance.

“Yes, but you’re different,” Grace said. “I’ve already told you that several times, but I’ll tell you every day if I have to. You were right...I didn't love Guy. And Phil...that was just a ghost from my past, some unfinished business. But you? Well...you know how I feel.”  
  
"I do,” Frankie sank into her pillows, cheeks turning pink. “But it never hurts to hear you say it.”

“Well...” Grace paused. “You’ll be happy to know I made an appointment with a therapist, so I’ll be thoroughly examining all my prior choices with the hopes of making better ones in the future.”

“You did?” Frankie’s mouth fell open, stunned. “Wow...you must really like me or something. That’s huge.”

“It’s not _just_ for you,” Grace clarified. “It’s for me too. But I’m hoping...it will help. With everything.”

“That’s wonderful,” Frankie breathed, gazing out the window, admiring the stars. “Really. I’m so proud of you.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Grace went on. “You know, from the safety of our respective bedrooms?”

“Sure,” Frankie nodded. “Go ahead.”

“When did you first realize you were attracted to me?”

Frankie swallowed, hard. She shut her eyes again, biting her lip. _Okay_ , she told herself. _It’s okay_...

“It didn't happen all at once,” she spoke slowly. “I can't...really pinpoint one exact moment. I always thought you were beautiful, but unreachable, and of course I had no reason to reach. But then...when we moved in together…I started seeing that wasn’t completely true. The more you opened up...the more beautiful you became.”

“Really?” Grace sighed, voice hitching up an octave. “You always thought I was beautiful?”

“Yes,” Frankie shook her head. “Duh. Who wouldn’t?”

“For me it was your laugh,” Grace shared. “Or maybe...the way you make me laugh. No one’s ever made me laugh as much as you.”

“And that’s how you knew?” Frankie sat up, wrapping her free arm around her knees.

“Well,” Grace swallowed. “Not just that. I’ve always thought you were beautiful too.”

“You don’t have to lie, Grace,” Frankie told her somberly. “I know that’s not true.”

“Yes it is,” Grace demanded. “Okay...maybe not in the way I think of you now, but I’ve always…always admired how free and natural you were, how comfortable you always seemed to be with who you are. That’s always been attractive. Yes, your style is different from mine...but not _bad_ different. It’s refreshing, and honest, and yes...very enticing. No one else could pull off that hair of yours...and your skin? I don’t know how you’ve done it, but your skin is just...and your eyes…”

“I do have nice eyes, huh?”

“Yes,” Grace laughed. “I got the chance to look at them longer than I ever had that time you let me do your makeup, remember? Our say yes night? I think that was the night things started to change. Or maybe before that. But anyway, you’re right. It wasn’t all at once.”

“We should do that again sometime,” Frankie mused. “Another say yes night.”

“I don't know,” Grace teased. “Given our boundaries...it could be dangerous.”

“True,” Frankie fell back against the bed again, holding her hand to her chest. “But...who knows? I might be ready for dangerous sooner than you think.”

Grace fell silent.

Frankie cursed herself. She couldn’t believe she’d said that. Her mind and her mouth were out of sync, and she felt her walls coming down, but it felt so right. She couldn’t help it.

“Really?” Grace finally spoke again.

“Maybe,” Frankie exhaled. “We just have to tell each other...what we need."  
  
"You mean…”

“Sexually.”

“Right,” Grace swallowed. “I wasn’t sure...I mean...is that what you’re interested in?”

“Yes,” Frankie answered boldly. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Grace breathed. “I just...I don’t even know where to begin with…”

“That’s why we have to talk about it,” Frankie repeated.

"Well, then let’s talk about it,” Grace agreed. “It shouldn’t be that hard. We’re in the masturbation business, for God’s sake.”  
  
"Right,” Frankie breathed. “Well...in that case. I guess...we should start with what we like.”

“You know what I like,” Grace told her. “A little. We've talked about it some. You helped me feel a whole lot more comfortable in that department, honestly."  
  
"Right,” Frankie nodded. “But that was pretty vague. I'm gonna need more than that."  
  
"We've never really talked about your needs,” Grace was quick to deflect. "What about with Jacob?"  
  
"That was mediocre at best,” Frankie admitted.

“Oh...really?” Grace was surprised. “I thought you ‘rocked his world?’”

“I’m not saying I didn’t,” Frankie corrected. “It just wasn’t necessarily reciprocal.”

“I see,” Grace sounded a little too thrilled by that. “Well...sorry.”

“It is what it is,” Frankie rolled her eyes. “Or was. Anyway...what about you? Do you really like intercourse?”

“Wow,” Grace swallowed. “We’re just jumping right into it.”

“Is that…”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Grace answered. “Yes, I like it. Mostly because it's pretty much all I did for forty years...and not that often. Robert was terrible at the other thing, but I guess that makes sense."  
  
"You mean...” Frankie felt her skin heating up. “...going down on you?"  
  
"Yes," Grace answered concisely.  
  
"Sol was pretty decent,” Frankie shared. “I guess that was just his giving nature. But I like intercourse too, despite what you may think."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes,” she answered. “It's not so much that I was ever scared. It’s just...allowing someone else inside me, letting someone else’s energy mix with mine. I can only handle that with someone I really trust."  
  
"I get that,” Grace breathed. “So...you trusted Jacob?"  
  
"Yes, but it still wasn’t great. There wasn't that...that spark. That excitement. He was gentle, maybe too gentle at times, but that was all I could take from him. There has to be balance."  
  
"Uh huh,” Grace sounded a bit lost. “So then...what does intercourse between two women involve? I mean...I've seen some things..."  
  
"You mean porn?” Frankie smirked. “No. That's not accurate.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“But you…” Grace swallowed. “You’ve never done it before, so how do you…”

“I don’t have to have slept with a woman to know when two women are faking it,” Frankie insisted.

“Alright then,” Grace let it go. “What is real then? How...I mean...would we…”

"There are lots of ways,” Frankie mused. “Fingers. Dildos. I do make my own, as I might have told you..."  
  
"Yes,” Grace cut her off. “I remember. I don't know that I'm...quite there yet."

“I’m not saying I am either,” Frankie breathed. “We could start much simpler than that. Do a little more business research, if you will."

“Oh,” Grace seemed to be having an epiphany. “You mean…”  
  
“What functions do you like best?”

Grace was quiet again. Frankie could almost hear the wheels turning in her head, but that was fine. It kept her from getting swallowed up by the hurricane of emotions tearing through her own brain.

“Well…” Grace started. “I like all of them, honestly. But the first...that seems to work best.”

“I like that one too,” Frankie swallowed. “Although sometimes it can be a bit much. The variety of the others can be nice.”

“Yeah,” Grace laughed softly, nervously. “The other night...well...I think I overdid it a little.”

“Oh?” Frankie’s breath caught. She tried not to sound too invested.

“It’s made for comfort, but it doesn’t cure osteoarthritis, that’s for sure,” Grace added. “If you don’t maintain a good position with your own body...well...let’s just say my hip really hurts today.”

“It does?” Frankie asked sympathetically. “If you want, I can massage it for you.”

“You want to massage my hip for me?” Grace laughed again. “You won’t even get in the same room as me...”

“Not yet,” Frankie told her. “But I would.”

“So basically…” Grace swallowed. Frankie could hear her shifting in bed, almost like she was hiding beneath the sheets. “You want your hands on my ass? Is that what you're saying?”

“I'm not... _not_ saying that,” Frankie breathed. “Honestly...I want my hands all over you.”

“You do?” Grace breathed.

“Yes,” Frankie bit her lip. “I really do...but I’m not ready. Not just yet.”

“You seemed like you were ready the other night,” Grace noted.

“I...I know,” Frankie stuttered. “Kissing you is...well, it makes me forget everything else. I’ve had time to think since then, and...the truth is...you mean way too much to me to get this wrong. So I need to be sure I’m ready.”

“That’s totally fine,” Grace assured. “I can wait. Of course...it’s nice hearing you want to.”

“I never thought I’d feel this way again,” Frankie told her. "I never thought I’d feel the same...or, not the same but...I never thought I'd feel as much as I did, as safe...as understood...as I did with Sol. But I do. I feel that way with you, maybe...even more than I did with him. Because you’re you. You’re my best friend, and another woman, and...I don’t know, I guess...I want to experience everything with you. I'm just really afraid of you not wanting to be that person."

"I do,” Grace whispered. “I do want to be that person. If you’ll let me.”

Frankie shut her eyes again, holding the walkie talkie to her chest. This was a big step. An important step, but she wasn’t there just yet. No matter how badly she wanted Grace, no matter how much she was tempted to cast aside all doubt and cross that courtyard and make her way upstairs to the woman waiting for her, she still couldn’t do it.

“I want to,” Frankie breathed. “I will...soon. I promise.”

“Okay,” Grace agreed. “And I promise to be patient...and to keep giving you the reassurance you need to get there, so long as this is really what you want. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Frankie laughed sweetly. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Grace sighed. “I’m not there to seal the promise with a kiss to your forehead, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. Alright?”

“Alright,” Frankie blinked, tracing the sheets with her fingernails. “Except...maybe you can kiss me on the lips from now on? Not just the forehead.”

“You’d be okay with that?”

“I’d be more than okay with that,” Frankie told her.

“Okay,” Grace exhaled. “Well...I think I should let you go then. For now.”

“Thinking about calling your cousin?” Frankie smirked wickedly, biting her lip as she teased.

“Don’t start,” Grace warned. “But you know...if you wanted to call your cousin too, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, would it?”

“I’m hanging up now,” Frankie told her. “Or signing off. Whatever you want to call it. Over.”

“Fine,” Grace laughed softly. “Sweet dreams, Frankie. Over.”

“You too,” Frankie whispered, setting the walkie talkie on the table next to the bed.  
  
She lied there for what felt like forever, thinking about Grace, about what she may or may not be doing in the house next door. She thought about reaching for her own vibrator, but instead, settled deep into the pillows, shutting her eyes, letting her hopes, her dreams, keep her company for the rest of the evening. That was all she needed. For now.


	4. Chapter 4

“Why don't we start with whatever is on your mind now?” Dr. Judy, whose first name was Rebecca, which was ridiculous, instructed. “Eventually we’ll get to everything else if I’m doing my job right, but for now, just tell me what brought you here today.”

“Okay,” Grace took a deep breath, crossing her legs, smoothing her hands over her perfectly pressed white slacks. “Well, I guess...I guess I just...sorry, are you sure you're a real therapist?”

Dr. Judy’s office looked more like a yoga studio than a professional practice. She sat in a big, cozy-looking arm chair, feet tucked underneath her, a collection of ceramic frogs staring back from the shelf next to the window. She wasn't wearing any shoes, and there was no pad or pen in sight.

“Diploma’s on the wall,” she smiled, pointing to it. “I just like to be comfortable. But if it bothers you, I can…”

“No, no that's fine,” Grace stopped her. “It's sort of perfect, actually.”

“Why’s that?” Rebecca asked.

“Well...I have this friend,” Grace started again. “A real friend. Not like when people say ‘I have this friend’ but they're really talking about themselves. I'm sure you get a lot of that. Anyway...she really is my best friend, in the whole world. She lives with me, and we're…different. Very different. But it works, most days.”

Rebecca’s eyes softened as she listened. Grace tried to pick up on any other changes in her facial expression, any early signs of judgement. She figured they taught shrinks to control their reactions in college, so it might not actually mean anything that she seemed cool as a cucumber. Nevertheless, she was good.

“Anyway, she sort of reminds me of you,” she continued. “Very laid back, at least on the surface. Beyond that things tend get a little more neurotic. No offense.”

“None taken,” Rebecca nodded.

“At first she drove me crazy. I mean really, _really_ crazy. I couldn't even stand being around her half the time. We spent so many years just sort of tolerating each other, living these parallel lives, but never really meshing. And now…god, that feels like a lifetime ago,” Grace swallowed. “Because I can't imagine my life without her. I’ve tried, really...and I don't want to, ever. Which is why this so hard.”

Rebecca leaned forward, handing her a tissue. Grace nodded a silent thanks, embarrassed to be choked up so early on.

“So I guess...what I'm really here to talk about is how I can do my best to not mess this up,” she breathed. “Because...well, we kissed recently, and I think we might be headed for other things. Turns out she's not just my best friend. She's everything to me...and I can't believe I’m even saying that out loud, because it's way too scary. I wasn't prepared for this...but I guess, in some ways, it was inevitable. Because that's what Frankie does to you. She barrels into your life like some kind of...I don't know...pagan, zen Buddhist freight train...and then you can't get rid of her. And sure enough, you don't want to, because she fills your life with color and kindness and so much... _life_ , for lack of a better word. It can be overwhelming, but it's also exactly what I never knew I needed. When I'm with her...I just know there will never be another boring lunch in a formal dining room with gray walls and no talking. Now there's always talking, every day. And I don't ever want it to stop.”

Rebecca watched her quietly for a few moments. Grace breathed slowly, staring down at her feet.

“It sounds like this...Frankie, is it?” Rebecca clarified.

Grace nodded.

“It sounds like Frankie is someone you love very much. Is that safe to say?”

“Yes,” Grace swallowed again. “Yes, she is. As stupid as that sounds.”

“Why would that be stupid?”

“Because,” Grace laughed as she sighed. “This wasn't supposed to happen. We were just supposed to help each other through a difficult time, not stay together for the rest of our lives…but that is what I want. It's what we both want, I think. But I want things to be different this time, better than all our past relationships, with the time we have left. It's not lost on either of us that we may only have another twenty years or so, if we're really lucky. But what we do have...I want to make the most of it, because I already almost lost her once. And I can't go through that again.”

“What do you mean you almost lost her?” Rebecca asked. “Does she have health problems?”

“Yes. Well, nothing major…” Grace swallowed. “Sort of major. She had a stroke about ten years ago and didn't even know it, and another smaller one recently. She's fine now, taking all the necessary precautions. That's not what I meant actually, though I do worry about that too. She almost moved to Santa Fe with a man she was seeing, but that's over now, thank goodness.”

“She stayed because of you?”

“Yes,” Grace nodded. “And because our families are here, and we're all very close, despite what happened with Robert and Sol.”

“Who are Robert and Sol?”

“Oh…” Grace froze, brow furrowed. “Did I...did I forget to mention our husbands left us for each other?”

Rebecca’s eyes went wide, but she quickly recovered.

“No,” she said. “You did not. That must have been very confusing.”

“It was a bombshell,” Grace rolled her eyes. “Twenty years worth of lies, half our marriages. But it makes sense now, at least on my end. Funny enough, I think it was all worth it. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Did you always know you had feelings for Frankie?”

“Not at all,” Grace shook her head. “No, I did like her more than I let on. I thought she was interesting, lovely, if still very annoying. But no, I didn't feel this way back then.”

“What about other women?” Rebecca continued. “Was there ever any indication…”

“No,” Grace insisted, clutching her purse in her lap. “Well...I mean, I’ve _looked_ at other women, obviously. My whole business was focused on women. How could I not? I suppose...well, if I did have those kinds of thoughts, I certainly never took them seriously. I thought that was just part of the human condition.”

“It is,” Rebecca smiled again. “To some degree.”

“Robert, on the other hand, says he's always known. About him, not me,” Grace stressed. “Even before we were married. I guess...I just want to know...do you think we're doing this, me and Frankie, because we're trying to get back at our husbands in some subconscious way? Are we just acting out some twisted part of the pain we experienced? Because I don't want people thinking that.”

“No,” Rebecca assured. “That's not how it works, at least from my perspective. But I do think there's a lot to explore there, especially how your ex-husband made you feel. That's a lot to go through, such betrayal. How long ago was that?”

“Almost two years,” Grace swallowed. “I guess I really buried the lead, didn't I?”

“I don't think so,” Rebecca shook her head. “Your exes getting together may have been the impetus for where you and Frankie started, but it sounds like your connection goes way beyond that now. You came together out of loneliness, shared trauma, but you wouldn't have stayed if you didn't genuinely care for each other. This is no longer your ex-husbands’ story; it's yours. You've made a life with Frankie, and now you want to share that life in new ways. There’s nothing wrong with that, so long as you're both happy. You're not copying or mimicking anyone.”

“Gosh,” Grace exhaled, sniffing back more tears. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

“Do you think you deserve to be happy?”

Grace paused, lips falling open, but no words came out.

It seemed like such a simple question. She was used to bolstering herself up, making herself look super confident, like nothing could touch her, like she was absolutely entitled to everything she had. But as she thought about it, her mouth slowly closed, mind running blank. She blinked a little, staring back for what felt like far too long, unable produce an answer.

“Sounds like we have some work to do,” Rebecca smiled warmly. “I'd like to get you to a place where you can allow yourself to feel everything you're feeling without beating yourself up about it. How does that sound?”

“Good,” Grace smiled. “Really good.”

“Okay then,” Rebecca nodded. “Why don't you tell me more about yourself?”

Grace wiped her nose on the tissue crumpled in her hand, putting her purse aside, letting out another slow, deep breath before sharing more of her story.

* * *

“Yes, tiny cheeses, thank you!” Brianna stabbed a cube with her fork. “Fill me with your magical antidepressant powers.”

“You know you really are just as strange as the rest of us,” Frankie laughed, spooning hummus into the center of another platter, creating a mosaic around it with carrots and celery sticks. “But you're supposed to be helping, not eating our progress.”

“There’s more than enough,” Brianna sulked. “And I'm just eating mom’s since we know she won't. Where is she anyway?”

“She had a thing,” Frankie offered, secretly counting the seconds Grace was gone, trying not to worry about what she might be thinking or rethinking during her therapy session.

“That's convenient,” Brianna snapped a carrot with her teeth. “Big family gatherings aren't exactly her favorite.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Frankie assured. “She didn't know this was happening. None of us did. Do you know what’s happening?”

“No clue,” Brianna lied. “Maybe Bud’s moving to Thailand. Or selling the law firm to take up...bowling. Professionally.”

“Brianna,” Frankie’s eyes narrowed, holding up a zucchini like a weapon as she cornered her. “You _do_ know something. Spill, girlfriend.”

“I can't!” the blonde skirted away, mouth full of cheese. “I promised.”

“Maybe he and Allison are engaged,” Frankie gleamed, slicing more vegetables. “I know it’s early, but I think they clicked right from the beginning. And I do like her.”

“Maybe,” Brianna rolled her eyes. “I don't know why we’d all have to be summoned to the beach house for that.”

“So that's not it then?” Frankie’s eyes went wide. “Oh god, I can't take this. Can’t you give me just a little hint? You know, secrets are a leading cause of stress, which can lead to minor neurological events, to which I am prone.”

“Are you seriously trying to guilt me by threatening to have another stroke?” Brianna scoffed. “God, you have been living with Grace Hanson for too long.”

“Don't say that,” Frankie dropped the knife suddenly, looking up with deathly solemn eyes. “Never say that.”

“What? I'm kidding,” Brianna glowered. “It's not like she's here, which usually means we get to talk shit freely…”

“Hello!” Bud made his entrance with Allison in tow.

“Oh good!” Frankie threw her arms around his neck immediately. “Tell me. Please? Tell me, tell me…”

“Not yet,” he scolded, kissing her cheek. “That's the whole point. Everyone always gets pissed when they're the last to know things, so I decided to start a new tradition of telling everyone together.”

“Isn't he thoughtful?” Frankie shook her head proudly, clutching his face.

“Hi, Mrs. Bergstein,” Allison waved. “I brought some of my non-dairy, non-GMO cheese. Do you think it might fit in with your cheese labyrinth?”

“Of course it will,” Frankie beamed. “Thank you, Allison.”

“Traitor,” Brianna whispered over her shoulder.

“Look at this place,” Robert marveled as he stepped into the kitchen. “Last time I was here I was so busy lifting you and Grace up off the floor, I didn't even notice the redecorating. You girls have really changed things up.”

“Not really,” Frankie went to the sink to wash some grapes. “But leave it to your queer eye for the...gay...eye...I don't know where I was going with that. Hello, Robert.”

The house began to fill with buzz and teasing and laughter, all the things Frankie loved about the people she called family. She couldn’t believe she’d ever considered moving away from this. Just the thought made her sick with guilt all over again.

She checked the clock. It was almost five-thirty. _Grace must be stuck in traffic_ , she thought, hoping she'd get there soon so they wouldn't have to wait much longer.

“I haven't heard from you in awhile,” Sol joined her at the sink. “You doing okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine,” Frankie answered smugly. “Great in fact.”

“Really?” he pushed a bit more, lowering his voice. “Because Robert told me about you and Jacob. Grace told him, so that's how he knew.”

“Well aren’t they just a couple of gossipy gal pals?” Frankie rolled her eyes. “I said I’m fine.”

“It's okay if you're not, you know,” Sol shook his head, leaning against the counter. “That was your first relationship after us. I'm sure there's a lot going on in that big heart of yours.”

“There is,” Frankie glared. “But once again, it's none of your business.”

“You’re right,” he threw up his hands. “I just worry about you. Try not to let this set you back. You'll find love when you least expect...”

“I know I will,” she cut him off. “I don't need you to tell me that. Believe me.”

He frowned, looking wounded and a bit terrified. Frankie realized she was holding a pretty big knife between them, quickly dropping it on the counter.

“Sorry,” she swallowed. “I know you're just trying to help. I don't want to shut you out, not completely, it's just...been an interesting time.”

“That’s okay,” he smiled, understanding. “I’m always here if you need me.”

“Thank you,” she nodded. “I know.”

He left to join Robert on the couch. Frankie returned to the cutting board, fishing through her bowl of avocados, once again checking the clock.

“Hey,” Coyote arrived with Mallory, pushing the stroller while she kept the older two separated.

“Well hello there little ones!” Frankie squatted to their level. “Oh, Madison, look at how big you are. Pretty soon you’ll be taller than your brother.”

“No she won't!” he sassed. “She's a doo doo face!”

“Macklin, enough!” Mallory begged through her teeth. “I'm so sorry, Frankie.”

“That's okay,” Frankie stood. “Though I hear there's this cake we're having for dessert tonight that only doo doo faces get to eat. Maddy, would you like to see it?”

“Yeah!” she cheered.

“Come, I'll show you,” she took the little girl’s hand, sticking her tongue out at Macklin before bringing her over to the fridge.

“What, are you some kind of manny now?” Bud teased, giving his brother the side eye as he rocked the stroller back and forth in the hallway.

“ _No_ ,” Coyote whispered, indicating that the twins were asleep. “I'm just helping.”

“Right,” Bud smirked. “Good luck with that.”

“Can you please just tell us why we had to brave rush hour to get here so urgently?” Brianna insisted.

“Not yet!” Frankie shouted. “Grace is still missing.”

“I mean, I'm sure she's not _missing,”_ Brianna sassed. “Though we could put out a BOLO, call in some detectives…”

“Do you think we should?” Frankie brought her hand to her chest, panicked. “She did go all the way downtown. I heard about this new gang that throws eggs at your windshield to try to get you to pull over. Grace uses her wipers like they're an extension of her own eyelashes. She'd never survive. I really thought she'd be back by now. Maybe we should…”

“ _No_ ,” Brianna shook her head. “Again. I. was. kidding.”

“Oh,” Frankie swallowed, checking her watch, realizing she wasn't wearing a watch. “Okay. Maybe five more minutes? Then we really should call someone. Call her! I can do that...”

“What is with you?”

“Nothing, I…” Frankie fumbled for her phone. “I just don't want her to miss this.”

“I'm one thousand percent sure she doesn't care,” Brianna argued. “Bud, please. Before I start screaming…”

Thankfully, Grace walked through the door at that very moment, freezing when she looked up and realized she had an audience.

“Oh thank god!” Frankie rushed to her, drawing her into a shockingly tight hug.

“Wow,” Grace jumped, laughing nervously, unable to control her blush. She swallowed, watching everyone watch them, patting Frankie’s back before pulling away. “What is all of this? Why are there so many people in our house?”

“You mean your  _family_?” Brianna sniped.

“Oh my god,” Grace’s face fell. “Who died?”

“No one,” Frankie calmed her, rubbing her arm gently. “Bud has news to share with us. He asked everyone to meet him here. I couldn't say no.”

“Of course not,” Grace softened, still trying to pretend Frankie’s hug, along with the sudden touching after so many days, wasn't setting off a million alarms in every part of her body.

“Anyway,” Frankie swallowed, backing off. “I'm just glad you're home.”

“Yes, now can we get on with it?” Brianna urged.

“Alright,” Bud stepped into the center of the room, taking the stage as he held Allison around the waist. “So...Allison and I are very pleased to announce that...we’re engaged!”

“I knew it!” Frankie shouted. “Oh honey, I’m so happy for you. Both of you!”

“Congratulations, son,” Robert raised his glass.

“That was quick,” Coyote chimed in.

“Shut up,” Bud shot him down.

“There’s nothing wrong with quick,” Sol shook his head. “Your mother and I knew we would get married after just a few weeks. And look how that turned out.”

“Not the best point of comparison, but thank you, dad, for the encouragement,” Bud swallowed. “And that’s not all.”

“There’s more?” Frankie jumped up and down. “Jesus. Get on with it!”

“I’m knocked up!” Allison burst out, dancing suggestively.

Everyone went silent. Allison caught on after another air hump or two, slowing her moves.

“Are you for real?” Frankie stepped towards them, voice catching in her throat.

“Yeah,” Allison smiled. “Thirteen weeks. We wanted to wait to be sure it stuck.”

“I…” Frankie shook her head, swallowing. “I don't know…what to say...”

“That's a first,” Grace whispered, sipping the martini she just poured.

“Are you happy?” Bud asked pointedly.

“Happy?” Frankie exhaled, tears pooling in her eyes. “I'm ecstatic!”

She grabbed Allison’s face, kissing her cheeks, reaching for Bud’s hand.

“Congratulations,” Mallory told them sweetly. “If you need anything, I've got it all. Enough for four. Trust me.”

“Thanks,” Allison managed to squeak from within Frankie’s arms.

“Mom,” Coyote gently pried her away. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Frankie cried. “I just can't believe it.”

“Congratulations, grandma,” Grace joined them, resting her hand on the small of Frankie’s back. “You too, Bud and Allison.”

“Have you started having side effects?” Brianna asked. “Wait...who am I kidding. Of course you…”

“I thought my linea nigra already formed, but it's way too early,” Allison shared. “Turns out I just have really dark stomach hair.”

“Ah,” Brianna cringed. “Right.”

* * *

As the night went on, everyone continued to barrage Allison with questions, actually content to listen for once.

“This is a really big deal,” Sol found Bud in Frankie’s meditation room, taking him by the shoulders. “Are you sure you're ready for this?”

“Yes,” Bud rolled his eyes. “Trust me. I've considered all the pros and cons, and there are no cons. I mean, not none. There's never none. But none that matter.”

“Okay good,” Sol continued. “Because I know I said that thing about your mother and I moving quickly, but the truth is, it really is a huge decision. I just want to make sure you're not feeling pressured to marry someone because...”

“Dad, stop,” Bud put up his hand. “We were thinking about marriage before the baby was even a thought. She's the one.”

“Well, you have the best judgement of anyone I know,” Sol told him. “So if you say she's the one, she must be the one.”

Frankie was passing by on her way to the kitchen, close enough to hear their conversation. She smiled to herself.

“Plus it's really nice having someone who puts me first for once,” Bud continued.

Frankie listened as her eyes floated across the room to Grace. To her surprise, she was holding one of the twins, bouncing him on her lap, smiling into his wee face as Mallory draped a spit up towel over her shoulder. Frankie had never seen Grace like that, so hands on, like she was actually trying, like this wasn’t a chore, but rather something she enjoyed.

She swallowed hard, pressing her hand to her sternum, fiddling with her necklace as Grace looked up. They locked eyes for a moment, the corners of Grace’s mouth curling up as her cheeks turned rosy. She looked back down at the baby, then at Macklin, who was showing off the sword he'd made out of tin foil.

Frankie went to the kitchen, eyes still misty as she started putting away the food, digging out some Tupperware for the hummus and other goodies before opening the fridge to fetch dessert.

“Here,” a soft voice came from behind, fingers very subtly reaching around her, barely touching her wrist. “Let me get that.”

Frankie turned around slowly, breath catching at Grace’s proximity. It wasn't like they weren't touchy feely all the time, at least before everything that happened recently. No one else would have suspected a thing. But to her, there was a marked difference in the way Grace was showing she wanted to help, taking an interest in her grandkids, letting Frankie know in whatever ways she could that this night was special, that she was in it for the long haul.

“That's okay, I've got it,” Frankie shook her head. “Go play with them.”

“I've had my fill for now,” Grace rolled her eyes. “But they are cute. When they're not spitting up on my blouse.”

Frankie laughed, smile spreading across her face like sunshine. Grace laughed a little too, eyes filled with calm and such patience, more than Frankie could ever remember seeing. But there was also a hunger there, an unmistakable desire to stay right where they were, laughing together in the kitchen. To be close without getting too close in a house full of people.

“I'm so happy for you,” Grace swallowed. “You're gonna be the best grandmother in all of La Jolla. You know that, right?”

“La Jolla?” Frankie scoffed. “I'm going for the world, baby. Nothing can stop me.”

“A worthy endeavor,” Grace smirked, leaning forward, taking the platter from her as she whispered in Frankie’s ear. “And I like it when you call me baby.”

“Grace…” Frankie’s eyelids fluttered.

“Sorry,” Grace shook it off, backing away as she put the cake on the counter, still whispering. “I know I'm not supposed to…”

“No,” Frankie swallowed. “Please do.”

Grace looked back up at her, the color in her cheeks creeping into her neck. Frankie was sure it wasn't the first time she was thankful for her high collars.

“Anyway, go,” Grace shooed her. “You set everything up when I was out. I can take over from here.”

“Thank you,” Frankie smiled, squeezing her shoulder, letting her nails rake gently down her arm before heading back to the living room.

* * *

“We’ll be back from our trip way before your due date,” Sol assured Allison, holding her hands as he sat next to her on the couch.

“Oh I'm not worried,” she shook her head. “My mom went almost forty three weeks with me. I'm tiny now, but I was a big baby. I’m hoping this one will stay in the oven long enough to fully cook.”

“Gross,” Brianna snarked under her breath, taking another swig of beer. Mallory elbowed her right in the stomach. “I mean...that's great! Babies. Yay.”

“Brianna, can you come help me please?” Grace called from the kitchen.

“Oh boy, I'm in trouble now,” she pushed up off the sofa, making her way towards the island. “What?”

“ _Be nice_ ,” Grace whispered. “I thought you were making an attempt with your sister. You could extend the same courtesy to Allison.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Brianna held in a burp. “Why is everyone being so serious these days?”

“What do you mean?” Grace put down the saran wrap.

“Frankie’s extra sensitive for some reason,” Brianna rolled her eyes. “It's no fun.”

“Well she's been through a lot lately,” Grace told her. “Between the stroke and Jacob. She might not be up for your whole roastmasters routine. And besides, there's nothing wrong with being sensitive. We're all sensitive, just at different levels. You should try it sometime.”

“Gee, who are you, Lady Freud?”

“No,” Grace shook her head. “But I am seeing a therapist, just between you and me. And I highly recommend it.”

“Seriously?” Brianna blinked. “Grace Hanson’s finally letting someone peek behind the big velvet curtain? What, did Frankie threaten to move away if you didn't?”

“Brianna, knock it off,” Grace warned.

“What? I'm just curious. Because you never seemed to care about therapy when we had our problems.”

“What problems?”

“Honestly?” Brianna scoffed. “I don't know, let's see. You calling me fat every day since high school. You giving me your company and then not trusting a single thing I've done with it ever since. You never showing the least bit of interest towards my boyfriend when I finally had one. Why don't we start with those.”

“Okay, you're cut off,” Grace took away her beer. “And I've never called you fat a day in your life.”

“Bullshit,” she seethed.

“I don't know where this is coming from right now, but you need to stop. This is Bud and Allison’s night. We can talk more another time, or better yet, come to therapy with me. Dr. Judy said family members are welcome anytime.”

“Pass,” Brianna picked her phone up off the counter. “Although maybe I should. She should know who she's really dealing with.”

“I can’t believe how mean you're being,” Grace was aghast. “I know we've had our issues, but I thought we got through them. I took money from you, for Christ’s sake.”

“Oh yes,” Brianna smiled sarcastically. “Yes, this is all about money. After I had to go through Frankie to give it to you and then grovel for you not to shut me out over it. You think I'm mean?”

“Go home, Brianna,” Grace whispered. “I love you, but you need to figure out why this is all coming out right now. And if you want my help, I'll make an appointment for the two of us.”

“Whatever,” she slipped her phone back in her purse. “My Uber is here. Goodnight.”

Grace watched her walk away, knowing she should go after her, but she’d taken enough barbs for the evening.

“Where is she going?” Sol asked.

“Home,” Grace sipped her martini, returning to the dishes. “She's in rare form, even for her.”

“I thought you two were in a better place these days.”

“So did I,” she sighed, throwing herself into cleaning, trying not to let her heart close up too much as it struggled to protect itself.

* * *

“Thank you,” Mallory whispered, watching Coyote lower Macklin into his bed, the last of the brood to fall asleep in the car. “He has a ways to go, but I think you're really helping him deal with everything.”

“He needs to see someone,” Coyote told her firmly, shutting off the light, leading the way back to the living room. “So does Maddy. They need to talk about this with someone who knows what they're doing.”

“Are you telling me my kids need a shrink?” Mallory crossed her arms.

“Yes,” Coyote nodded. “Just like anyone else who knows anything about kids and divorce would.”

“That's…” she scowled, feeling indignant, even as she slowly let herself come down from her defensive pedestal. “You're right. I know it. I've just been putting it off.”

“Well that's not gonna do anyone any good,” he insisted. “They're hurting now.”

“I know that,” Mallory bit back. “What is it with you? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he started for the door.

“No, don't do that,” she stopped him, hand braced against his shoulder. “Please. I’ve done that for too long. I don't want to keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” he swallowed.

“Not talking,” she sighed. “About things that matter.”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, looking off into the shadows.

“Coyote, what's…”

“Am I just a manny to you?”

“A...what?” she looked shocked.

“A manny,” he repeated. “A man nanny.”

“Okay, first of all, I don't like that term,” she argued. “And second, why in the world would you think that's how I see you?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” she yelled in a whisper. “God, why would you say that? It’s not like I’m not paying you…”

“Maybe you should,” he told her. “Just so we can be clear about things.”

“About _what_ things?” Mallory bore into him. “You're my friend, Coyote. I thought you liked being with me. And the kids.”

“I do,” he assured. “But maybe...maybe it's not such a good idea.”

“Why?” she stepped closer, arms still crossed. “Why do you feel weird about this all of a sudden?”

“I don’t,” he lied. “Not weird. Weird’s not the right…”

“Because last time I checked, you were just a friend, and you were still sniffing around Nadia, waiting for her to be ready.”

“Nadia?” his eyes went big and blue, the way they always did when he was torn between being angry and wanting to show how much he cared. “I haven't seen Nadia in weeks. Not since you and I started…”

“What?” Mallory inched towards him.

“Nothing,” he began to sweat. “I know where I stand, okay? I care about you. And the kids. I know better than to…”

Mallory cut him off with a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He made a small noise in response, before his lips started moving too, hands finding their way to her back.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I know we shouldn't. Not now…”

“If not now, when?” he gave in, admitting everything, ready to risk it all for her, like he always had been.

She kissed him again, pushing them back through the hallway and into her bedroom, shutting the door carefully behind them.

* * *

“I can't believe she said that,” Grace coughed, taking another toke, propping herself up on the pillow before handing the joint back to Frankie. Everyone else was long gone. They’d moved to sit out on the back steps, leaving the rest of the dishes for tomorrow. “Of course I care. I'm thrilled for Bud. And Allison. And you.”

“I know that,” Frankie puffed, closing her eyes a little on the exhale. “She's just butthurt about something, that’s all. I don't know what. She won't talk to me either.”

“Did you try?” Grace asked. “You know, you have to be direct with Brianna. She's smart, but not when it comes to emotions. Hard to imagine where she gets that from.”

“Stop it,” Frankie pushed her playfully. “Enough self loathing for one night. You've met your quota. Just look out at the waves and let them wash away your troubles. If you need to jump in, that's okay too. I can watch out for rip currents. I trained as a lifeguard you know, but they never gave me any shifts because I refused to shave my leg hair. Pigs.”

“Wow,” Grace laughed. “What a shock. Don't worry, I hate swimming, as you know. I'm fine right here on the deck. Our friend Mary Jane can wash away my troubles instead, how’s that?”

“Sounds good to me,” Frankie smirked, passing it back again.

“Speaking of troubles,” Grace sat up a little straighter. “Before I let them all go, we need to start thinking about next steps for Vybrant. I got a call this morning from a rep from some channel called Vice…”

“Vice!!!” Frankie lost her shit. “Vice, are you fucking kidding? Vice wants _us_!? That's how I learned about weed crosses! Shit. This is a big deal, Grace. Really big. Do they want to do a piece on us?”

“Just for their web channel called Broadly. It's apparently devoted to women’s experiences, but I don't know. I saw an article on there about hexing Nazis and women who fall in love with horses. I'm not sure that's our demographic.”

“It is! Grace...trust me,” she grabbed her arm. “We want Vice. This is the big time.”

“I don't know,” Grace shook her head. “You really think we should? I'm not sure I like the idea of sex as a vice.”

“It's not like that,” Frankie claimed. “It's what all the cool kids are watching. Please? It will be so good. You said we need to take the next steps for the company. This could be perfect. Please?”

“Alright,” Grace agreed. “I'll call her back tomorrow to set up a meeting.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Frankie cheered. “You won't regret it.”

“I hope not,” Grace blinked, turning towards her, smiling softly. “I guess I’ll just have to trust you on this.”

“I appreciate that wholeheartedly,” Frankie narrowed her eyes, taking one more drag before ashing. “Speaking of meetings...how was the one you had earlier today?”

“You mean therapy?” Grace raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Frankie nodded. “But you don't have to give me details if you don’t...”

“No, it’s okay,” Grace smiled a little shyly. “It was good, actually. We talked about everything. You. Me. Robert. My parents, believe it or not.”

“That's a lot to cover in one appointment,” Frankie mused. “You never talk about them.”

“Yeah, well,” Grace sighed. “There's not much _to_ talk about except for how withholding they both were. That's the kind of love I was raised on, the kind I learned was safe. The kind you can’t ever really see, let alone feel. That’s all I’ve ever known. Until now.”

“I see,” Frankie swallowed, gazing out across the ocean. “And now?”

“Now,” Grace looked at her, taking a deep breath as she watched the wind sweep through Frankie’s long hair, reaching out, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. “I want more than that.”

Frankie nodded slowly, turning away from the vastness of the horizon, letting her deep blue eyes find their way back to Grace’s.

“I like it,” she smiled.

“Yeah?” Grace laughed as she breathed, pulling her hand back, feeling the effects of the pot melting through her system.

Everything was slow and sweet, like molasses. Frankie kept staring, and for a few moments, Grace felt like that might be all they ever did for the rest of their lives, just stare. There was still so much to talk about. What this really was, how they were ever going to explain it to their families. But none of that mattered, not now. For once, time didn't feel like it was zipping by, and Grace wasn't worried about Frankie leaving, or losing her in any kind of way. That feeling, of things not fleeting, of being sure they were headed in the right direction with no particular time they needed to arrive, was incredibly satisfying. That, and the way Frankie’s teal dress hugged her curves, the way her eyes sparkled brighter than the gems she wore around her neck, the way she looked back at her, like she really liked what she was seeing.

“I’ve always loved this song,” Grace finally spoke, the melody of “In My Life” by The Beatles floating to them from the speakers inside. “It makes me think of graduations.”

“Really?” Frankie swallowed. “I guess that makes sense. It makes me think of the time I almost fell off the back of Ginny Seaborn’s pick up truck. Or sitting in a circle looking at our twats with hand mirrors.”

“What?” Grace laughed hard, almost falling over. “Are you kidding? That didn't really happen.”

“I’m afraid it did,” she nodded. “But it is a song about new beginnings.”

They fell silent again, listening to the lyrics. Grace felt herself getting caught up in memories, friends and lovers who were no longer alive. It was hard to focus on any one thing when she was high, but she could still feel her heart beating faster, ringing in her ears with the music and the wind and the sea crashing on the shore. She turned to Frankie again, waiting patiently for her to look back. When she did, Grace swallowed at how smooth her skin looked under the moonlight, lips pink and parted, the way they were the night they last slept in the same bed, the night everything changed.

“Eyelash,” Frankie reached out to her cheek, brushing it away carefully, holding it in front of her. “Oh, right. You don't like wishes. I forgot. I can make one for you if…”

“No, wait,” Grace grabbed her hand, bringing it to her lips, never tearing their eyes apart. “I do have a wish.”

She held Frankie's finger there for a moment, thinking, really taking her time, until finally she gently blew it away.

Frankie’s chest rose and fell at the sensation, eyes glimmering. Grace could tell she was on the verge, maybe of tears, maybe of something else.

She let go of her finger, but before Grace knew it, Frankie closed the distance between them, grabbing her face, kissing her like she wasn't afraid, like she'd been bottling it up for days just so she could pour it all into this one, wild, worth-every-second kiss, like she’d been waiting to grant that wish all along, when the time was right.

Grace kissed her back, shifting her body closer as Frankie languidly stroked her cheeks, breath becoming a bit labored as they pressed gently, but fervently forward. Frankie wrapped her arms behind Grace’s back, moan deepening as she gripped her sweater. Their lips fell open, and Grace gasped as they let each other in, shivering at the feeling of Frankie’s tongue moving in her mouth, tasting and teasing as she tugged ever so slightly on her collar.

“Mmm…” Grace checked in, taking big, giant breaths as Frankie continued kissing, searching with her hands. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered lazily, pulling back before moving to Grace’s neck. “God yes…”

“Ahhh,” Grace couldn't help but giggle. “Your kisses feel like fireworks.”

“God, you're corny,” Frankie laughed. “And sweet,” she rubbed her nose against her ear. “And you smell so good. Why do you smell so good?”

“Say Grace products.”

“Really?” Frankie marveled, kissing her earlobe. “Why don't I use Say Grace products?”

“I don't know,” Grace swallowed. “But you don't need to, just...keep doing what you're doing.”

“You mean my mayo and black licorice masks from Nicaragua?”

“No, this,” Grace took her hands, bringing them back to her waist. “Keep doing this.”

Frankie smirked devilishly, kissing Grace’s neck again, letting her tongue trace her skin as fingers edged beneath her shirt, barely grazing the soft flesh above her slacks.

“Oh god…” Grace sighed, Frankie’s mouth making its way to the hollow of her throat. “I can't believe we're doing this…”

“Are you too high?” Frankie whispered.

“No,” Grace laughed, lifting Frankie’s chin back up so she could hold her, stare a bit more, marvel at the way her best friend was making her feel, all the new ways of seeing and feeling her this close. “No...I'm just so happy.”

There was a knock at the door then. Grace jumped back, leaving Frankie hanging in the air, lips still moving.

“Frankie,” Grace whispered. “Someone’s here.”

“Oh shit,” she snapped out of it, shaking her head, pulling her hands from beneath Grace’s shirt.

Grace got up painfully, limping a little, rubbing her hip as she crossed through the house.

“Bud?” she let him in the front door. “What are you…”

“Allison forgot her phone,” he sighed, picking it up right where she left it on the counter. “Sorry, I know it's late. She was afraid relatives might call about baby stuff. And wedding stuff.”

“I understand,” Grace nodded. “You two have a lot going on. I couldn't be happier for you, really.”

“Thanks,” he smiled. “Mom asleep?”

“Um...no, actually,” Grace swallowed, crossing her arms. “She's out back. We were just…”

He sniffed the air, then sniffed Grace.

“Doobie nightcap,” he shook his head. “Got it. Night, mom!”

“Love you, Bud!” she called from outside.

Grace showed him out quickly, shutting the door, leaning against it with her forehead as she let out a sharp sigh of relief.

That was a close call. Thankfully, they'd been better about locking their doors since the break in.

“Do you think he suspected anything?” Frankie asked, standing in the living room, a bit shaken.

“No,” Grace shook her head, slowly walking towards her. “I think this is probably what he assumes we do every night. Or at least...I hope.”

“Me maybe,” she smirked. “Smoking before bed is new for you.”

“Yeah,” Grace breathed, pushing her hands into her pockets, trying to figure out how to get back to the moment they were caught up in before. “Well...I should probably get to bed anyway. It is pretty late.”

“Really?” Frankie swallowed, looking disappointed. “I wasn't...I mean...I guess that makes sense.”

“I’d offer for you to come with me,” Grace stepped closer. “But I don't want to push your boundaries.”

“They could do with a little pushing,” Frankie breathed. “Maybe...if we just sleep...you could come back to the studio…”

“No thanks,” Grace laughed. “I am not sleeping in the studio. I don't want to roll over into any vindaloo you might be saving for another day. But you are welcome in my bed, you know...if you think you're ready for that.”

Frankie bit her lip, clearly torn between her options, considering every possible outcome if she decided to let go.

“You don't mind if I kick you?”

“I do,” Grace rolled her eyes playfully. “But I think I'd better get used to it.”

Frankie’s cheeks flushed. She took another step closer, slowly bringing her hands to Grace’s shoulders, smiling brightly as she stared into her eyes.

“Just sleep?” she swallowed.

“Just sleep,” Grace nodded. “I promise.

“Okay,” Frankie whispered. “Finish it off.”

Grace brought her hands to her face, kissing her once more, so softly, so assuredly, before taking her hand and leading them upstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience on the update! I'll probably go back to posting once a week now. I just needed to catch up a bit.
> 
> Things start to shift a little in this chapter, but don't worry. There are lots of very good things to come. Hope you enjoy! (:

Spooning Grace had quickly become one of Frankie’s favorite pastimes. It was right up there with eating chocolate in the bathtub, or dancing naked outside after the first spring rain. But being spooned _by_ Grace? That, somehow, was even better.

It never lasted long. Their bodies fit more comfortably the other way around, Grace curled up in Frankie’s arms, her small but decidedly well-cushioned ass pressed into Frankie’s thighs like that wasn't supposed to drive her crazy. After a while they’d both get too hot for spooning anyway, but even then they found ways to stay connected. A foot wrapped around an ankle here, a hand haphazardly strewn over a stomach there. When Frankie woke in the middle of the night, as she often did to ruminate or urinate, finding Grace’s limbs tangled with hers was heavenly. She would have given anything to stay that way till morning, forget all her anxieties, relax totally into the comfort of their situation. But inevitably, they'd both stir, and by the time the sun rose Frankie usually woke up on her side of the bed, still content and surprisingly well-rested, but missing the feeling of being entwined when their defenses were down. Then the waiting began, the watching, the listening as Grace continued to toss and turn, leaving Frankie to imagine what she might be dreaming.

But this morning wasn't like those other mornings. They'd been sharing a bed for almost a week, waking up together, kissing hesitantly, neither wanting to push the other too fast, especially after Bud almost walked in on them the other night. But this morning, something in the air was different. Frankie’s eyes opened, and she felt Grace curled against her back, arm tucked snugly around her waist, both their fingers laced together just beneath her breasts. How they'd managed to stay like that without their arthritis acting up was a mystery, or a miracle perhaps, but either way Frankie didn't dare question it.

She tried not to move, tried not to breathe, but soon felt Grace rustling, heard her soft, almost silent yawn before she shifted even closer, tightening her embrace, brushing her nose against Frankie’s spine. Frankie couldn't tell if she was was acting consciously or subconsciously, but it didn't matter. All she knew was that she didn't want it to stop.

“Are you awake?” she finally breathed.

“Mmm,” Grace hummed groggily. “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

She began to let go, but Frankie kept her hand clutched tightly to her chest, as if her life depended on it.

“You didn't,” she swallowed. “I’m awake.”

“You are?” Grace laughed, voice still heavy with sleep. “Are you planning to keep me like this all day then?”

“I’d like to,” Frankie brought her hand to her lips, kissing it slowly. “But I know we have to get ready, so...”

“True,” Grace sighed, nuzzling her from behind. “But we still have a few more minutes.”

Frankie kissed her hand again, scooting back ever so subtly, craning her neck as she shifted against Grace’s body, trying to send the right signals. She shuddered seconds later at the feeling of Grace’s lips on her shoulder blade in response, kissing her through her thin cotton nightgown. Frankie let go of her hand, letting Grace trace her nails up her arm, then down to her wrist, tickling so expertly, it was impossible for Frankie not to let out a small sound of appreciation, body twitching as her hips arched into Grace’s touch. She felt an ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in ages, heat building, creeping through her center, begging to be released. But her mind whispered _not yet_ , and she fought against it, wishing to god she could tell it to shut the hell up.

She rolled over after that, setting her eyes on Grace’s linen pajamas, the rose colored ones with the tiny white stripes. Her hair was a total mess, eyes still half closed, but she was staring at Frankie so lovingly, so patiently, it took all Frankie had not to suggest canceling their meeting so she could give her everything.

“Sorry…” Grace swallowed. “Is that too much?”

“No,” Frankie shook her head, bringing her hand to Grace’s cheek, tracing the outline of her jaw. “You've been following my lead. I appreciate that, really.”

“I don’t want to push you,” Grace bit her lip. “I really don't, I just…”

“You're not,” Frankie assured. “Trust me I...I want this just as much as you do. So much…”

She pulled her into a searing kiss, breathing through her nose, feeling goosebumps break out across her scalp as Grace sunk back into the pillows next to her, kissing so heartily, it made Frankie’s toes tingle.

“I have morning breath,” Grace laughed between kisses, smoothing her hand down Frankie’s arm again.

“Me too,” Frankie smirked. “I don't care though.”

“Me either,” Grace shook her head. “It's funny. I'm already used to yours.”

“Lucky me,” Frankie chuckled, running her fingers through Grace’s hair, then down her neck, feeling her pulse race. “God, you feel so good.”

“So do you,” Grace whispered, lips pressed against Frankie’s, tongue teasing, then pecking, tracing torturous shapes along her hip. “You taste good too...”

“I want to taste you,” Frankie exhaled, eyes closing, shocked at her own boldness.

“You...you do?” Grace swallowed hard, facing heating up. “Is that...I mean…”

“You know what I mean,” Frankie cradled her chin in her hands. “But we have a meeting at ten, and...I want to take our time. I need to.”

“I know,” Grace kissed her nose. “Don't worry.”

“I'm not worried,” Frankie breathed. “I don't know when I’ve ever felt so ‘not worried,’ about anything. It's more like...anticipation, nerves. I just want it to be perfect.”

“It will be,” Grace nodded, feigning that classic Grace Hanson confidence, clearly battling her own wave of trepidation. “We just have to figure out what works for us. That's all.”

“We will,” Frankie smiled, kissing her again, letting it linger as long as she could. She finally willed herself to stop, fearing they really wouldn't make it out of bed in time otherwise.

“I’m gonna shower and make us coffee,” Grace told her. “Meet you downstairs?”

“You got it,” Frankie sat up slowly.

“Just don't take too long,” she warned.

“Yes, boss,” Frankie saluted, rolling her eyes as she pushed out of bed, heading back to the studio.

* * *

“What about a men’s sauna?” Robert suggested, pulling up the website on his laptop. “Looks like there's several to choose from in Tokyo.”

“A bath house!?” Sol joined him at the table, practically scandalized. “You won't even go to a gay nightclub here in San Diego, but you want to share a hot tub with a bunch of naked men in Japan?”

“I never said I wouldn't go to a club,” Robert huffed. “You just assumed that.”

“Well, it's been implied.”

“Not because I don't want to patronize gay spaces. It's just everything starts so late these days. Clubbing is a young man’s scene. But a sauna? That could be invigorating.”

“Here I thought climbing to the top of Mount Fuji would be the most adventurous thing we’d do on our trip,” Sol shook his head. “But if you're really up for exploring gay life in other cultures, I won't object to that.”

“I'm up for exploring anything with you,” Robert kissed his temple, tearing himself away from the screen for a moment. “Are you sure you're ready for this? I know there's a lot of other things going on, with Bud and all. I'd understand if you wanted to wait.”

“Wait!? No. No, we can't wait. We need to be around after Allison gives birth in case they need alone time. They might ask us to babysit.”

“Sounds like someone’s excited to be a grandpa,” Robert mused warmly, already knowing the answer.

“Of course I am,” Sol nodded. “But honestly, I'm even more excited for Frankie. I've been able to practice a little with your grandkids. She hasn't had the same experience with Grace.”

“Well,” Robert looked back at the computer, browsing through another travel guide. “That makes sense, I suppose. You and I are married after all. They're your grandkids just as much as they're mine.”

“I guess that's true,” Sol continued. “Anyway, I'm excited for all of us. A baby always signals a time of change and renewal for relationships, a new era of closeness, bringing everyone together for the celebration of life. It was nice the other evening, all of us together under one roof at the beach house. It hasn't felt that good in years.”

“Agreed,” Robert smiled. “Hey, what do you think about sumo wrestling instead of the sauna?”

“Now you're into wrestling?!” Sol gawked. “What's next? Are you going to ask me to take in a Korean baseball game when we're in Seoul?”

“Let's put a pin in it for now,” Robert smirked. “We can start with a traditional tea ceremony in Kyoto. How's that sound?”

“Lovely,” Sol agreed. “But not very gay.”

“Darling, tea ceremonies are always gay. Trust me.”

Sol couldn't help but laugh. He sipped his own cup of tea, scooting his chair closer, determined to let Robert take control of planning their itinerary, even if he was keen on throwing out a few of his own suggestions along the way.

* * *

“Hi ladies!” a very enthusiastic millennial in ripped jeggings and a shirt that said “savage” beneath her blazer greeted them. “I'm Phillipa, and this is Cloud.”

 _Fuck me_ , Grace thought, smiling through clenched teeth, shaking hands with both producers, who couldn't have been more than a combined age of forty. She was extremely skeptical about this whole idea from the get go, but she'd promised Frankie to give it a shot.

“It's so nice to meet you,” she played along. “I'm Grace, and this is Frankie.”

“Frankie, wow,” Cloud checked her out. “I love your look.”

Given that half of Cloud’s head was shaved and she had a tattoo of a toucan on her neck, this wasn’t a big surprise.

“Why thank you,” Frankie boasted, modeling her gray sheath with matching palazzos, topped off by half the world’s reserve of smoky quartz. “I figure someone has to.”

“Can we order you ladies anything? Coffee? Jamba Juice?”

“Jamba Juice?” Grace looked around. “We're in an organic coffee shop.”

“Right, but we can get Jamba Juice,” Phillipa nodded, quite seriously. “We can get anything. Just say the word.”

“Oh,” Grace’s eyes went a little wide. “Okay.”

“Do you know Action Bronson?” Frankie demanded. “Or Eddie Huang? Matty Matheson!?”

“Yes,” Phillipa laughed. “Munchies is a separate channel, but we have met up on occasion.”

“Can you get me the lowdown on next season’s Bong Appetit?” Frankie asked. “I'm trying to cook more meals at home these days. For health reasons, but the doctor didn't say anything about THC being on the no-no list.”

“Pretty sure he did,” Grace chided beneath her breath. “How about a run down of how all this might work instead?”

“Yes! Okay, so,” Phillipa wound up again. “We just adore your product. We've both tried it. _Loved_ it. And more importantly, we think your story is something our viewers really need to see.”

“You mean viewers like you?” Grace asked. “In their twenties?”

“Well, that's our main demographic, and yes, I def think they'd be interested. But we've got a broad spectrum of followers on YouTube and our site, and we think this is the exact kind of thing to expand our demos, branch out to those who are a little more mature with content that speaks to them. Don't you think?” she turned to her co-producer.

“Absolutely,” Cloud chimed in. “We want women of all ages to know their sex lives don't have to shut down when they hit menopause, right? Like, actually they can be just as active, or get themselves off using the incredible tool you've created for them.”

“I don't like to call it a tool,” Frankie shook her head. “Too patriarchal. But I get your drift. I'm feeling it.”

“Oh my god,” Cloud smacked Phillipa’s arm. “She's so funny. You are so, so funny. This is perfect.”

“So what exactly would you be doing?” Grace brought them back to brass tacks. “Filming us? For how long?”

“Yes, we would be filming you, probably just for a few days,” Phillipa explained. “It really just depends on how much access you give. Your segment would be part of a larger doc on sexuality for older adults around the world.”

“That sounds fabulous,” Frankie gushed, the gleam in her eye matching the younger women's enthusiasm. “You ladies are really changing the conversation. It's like global activism, busting down stereotypes, one septuagenarian orgasm at a time.”

“Oh my god! Yes!” they both squeaked in unison.

“That does sound exciting,” Grace crossed her legs, clearly less convinced, though her interest was piqued. “So, you'd be interviewing us then? What kinds of things...I mean...how much would you be looking to...”

“As much as you're willing to tell us,” Phillipa continued. “We’d love to know everything we can about how you guys started the company, your dynamic, how you met, what keeps you motivated from the day-to-day. Two best friends building a business together is inspiring at any age, but you guys are like, really, particularly inspiring.”

“And we're not just best friends,” Frankie began earnestly. “Recently, we became...”

Grace kicked her under the table. Frankie paused, swallowing her words, adjusting.

“We became roommates,” Frankie blinked. “Two years ago though, so not...that recently.”

“That is perfect!” Phillipa raved. “That will make filming way easier.”

“Well good,” Grace sighed. “But you know, I'm still not sure how comfortable I am with the whole filming aspect. You've seen those reality TV shows. How do we know you won't make us look like idiots?”

“Mmm, good question,” Cloud nodded. “First, this is a documentary for the savvy online viewer, not reality TV. All we're interested in is the truth. Your fears, your desires, what makes you tick. At the end of the day, we just want to tell the story of two women who decided to make a vibrator together. It doesn't get any wilder than that, right?”

“No, I guess it doesn't,” Frankie agreed, smile strained, eyes narrowed.

Grace bit her lip on the inside, fidgeting with her purse.

“Why don't you ladies take a few days to think about it?” Phillipa offered, handing them a proposal. “Everything you need to know is in there, including contracts. Look it over, and if you have any questions, let us know.”

“Thank you,” Grace smiled politely. “We’ll be in touch.”

* * *

“What do you think? Should we get a chuppah, or is that too old school?” Allison asked from the sofa. “Did you want to go more modern, or were you wanting something like a broom ceremony to represent your roots? I'm up for anything, so long as Gregory still gets to be ring bearer.”

“Okay, chuppahs are still a big part of Jewish weddings, even modern ones,” Bud looked up from the case file he was reading at his desk. “And I have little interest in jumping over a broom, especially when the baby has your motion sickness kicked up to rollercoaster levels.”

“Come on, you must have some ideas,” she pushed. “Although I guess if we're not gonna do the courthouse thing, maybe we should let your sisters plan it instead? They did a shotgun wedding for your dads, right? Didn't you say that?”

“Yes, but that was because Robert was having heart surgery, not because one of them was pregnant. And anyway, they haven't offered to help with this.”

“Did you ask them?”

“No,” Bud sighed. “Mallory has her hands full with the kids, and Brianna’s...well, Brianna.”

“Guess it's up to us then,” she crossed the room to where he was sitting, planting herself in his lap. “I'd be fine if we just eloped, but my parents are really excited about meeting your parents. I kind of gave them the abbreviated history. They already want to ask your folks to be guest speakers at their PFLAG chapter.”

“Your parents are members of PFLAG?” Bud questioned. “Do you have some other queer or questioning relatives I'm not aware of?”

“They fall under the ‘friendly ally’ category, but they did take in the son of a neighbor once after his parents kicked him out,” she shared. “They were even willing to be foster parents.”

“Really?” Bud cocked his head to the side. “That's nice. I guess there's still a lot I don't know about your crew. Color me impressed.”

“We have plenty of time to trade stories,” she smiled, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Speaking of color, what do you think about lavender and chartreuse? Chartreuse always gets a bad rap, but I think the offbeat combination represents us well. Don't you think?”

“I think,” Bud shook his head, kissing her forehead. “I just want to be married to you. I don't care if the tables look like someone took a dump on them.”

“You're no help,” she rolled her eyes. “Good thing you're so cute.”

“Yeah, good thing,” he smirked, pulling her closer, tickling her sides, making her laugh until they were both falling onto the floor.

* * *

“Frankie, wait!” Grace called out. Her calf muscles were screaming, begging her to slow down as she shuffled through the parking lot, struggling to keep up. “I can't run in these heels!”

“That's too bad really,” Frankie breathed. “Guess it goes to show what a weak link you’d be in the zombie apocalypse.”

“Frankie,” Grace finally caught up, latching onto her arm, bending over as she panted. “What the hell was that?”

“I believe the technical term is a pitch session, though you should know that by now. You're the brains of this operation, aren't you?”

“Stop it!” Grace tried not to shout. “I know why you're upset, but frankly, I'm a little stunned. We meet these people for five minutes and you're willing to tell them _everything_? All our secrets? We haven’t even signed a contract yet!”

“True,” Frankie blinked. “But they’re cool chicks. And besides, they'll figure it all out once they start filming anyway.”

“Will they?” Grace asked, looking like her entire life was flashing before her eyes.

“I…” Frankie was taken aback. “I don't know. Won't they?”

“Honestly...” Grace exhaled, shaking her head as she scanned the lot, suddenly feeling very exposed and a bit nauseous from the smell of asphalt. “I thought we were on the same page about things.”

“About what things?” Frankie asked.

“About... _you and me_ things,” Grace swallowed, lowering her voice, stepping closer. “I'm not ready to tell people yet. We’re not even ready to tell our families, let alone an entire Internet full of strangers. You really want everyone knowing our business?”

“Isn't that what this whole Vice thing is about?” Frankie defended. “Getting our names out there? Along with our product?”

“Yes, but…” Grace began to crumble. “I just...I don't know…”

“What don't you know?” Frankie shook. “Tell me, Grace.”

“I just…” Grace was breathless. “...I just don't want to jeopardize our business by conflating it with...whatever it is that's happening between us.”

“Boy,” Frankie paced, refusing to make eye contact. “Every time I think we're ready to move forward, you take three steps back. I can't handle it.”

“Don't say that,” Grace panicked, reaching for her hand stealthily, which Frankie refused to give. “Were you really ready to tell the whole world about...”

“Not yet,” Frankie stopped pacing. “But in a few months maybe, when the segment finally airs, I figured we might be ready then. You know, it's not like we're sneaking around cheating on our husbands. We don't have anything to be ashamed of.”

“I know that,” Grace swallowed. “Still...it's a lot to think about. I don't even fully understand what...I mean...I don’t know if I want the whole world seeing our lives under a microscope. These kinds of things rarely turn out well for the people they’re focused on. Do you really want to be a laughing stock?”

“It's just one segment,” Frankie insisted. “You were into it at first. You said you trusted me.”

“I do trust you,” Grace squinted back tears. “I just...I didn't think it would feel like such a big deal. But it does.”

“Well, I don't think I can start something with this big of a lie hanging over our heads,” Frankie tensed. “Especially if it's captured on film.”

“Frankie, why don't you understand this!?” Grace broke down. “It isn't personal. It's about selling the product.”

“Oh, now it isn't personal? It's about you and me, Grace. Our story. Our _lives_. It doesn't get more personal than that.”

“I'm not saying I don't want...” Grace faltered, trying to make things better. “All I'm saying is...we don't want to alienate people who may not be supportive of two women who are more than ‘just friends’ trying to sell them a vibrator. Most of them aren't even willing to admit they need one in the first place. We have to play it cool.”

“I get it,” Frankie nodded. “I can play it very cool.”

“Frankie…”

“Take me home,” she whispered, looking down at her sandals. “Please.”

Grace was at a loss for what more to say. She stood there, frozen, wishing she had the guts to just say “Fuck it, let's do this.” But for all her posturing, all her pretending like she was way more ready than Frankie was, she realized she wasn't there yet either.

She unlocked the car, letting them in before beginning the long, silent drive back to La Jolla.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your love and kind words so far! I hope I'm not driving you too crazy (or at least if I am, it's a good crazy) with this slow burn. I promise big things to come very soon. Hope you enjoy this next part! Please let me know what you think (:

Frankie waited until Grace was gone for the day to set up her altar in the living room, opening the back doors, letting the salty air flow through the house as she prepared to spend some quality time with herself. She saged the area first, clearing the negative energy, any remnants of past fights and make up sessions, needing a completely clean slate. When she was ready, she sat down on the floor cushions, closing her eyes, wrapping her turquoise shawl around her shoulders as she took a deep breath through her nose, letting it out through her mouth. She repeated this several times, out with the bad, in with the good, adding some sound to it, until she felt her head was clear enough to do some real digging.

“Dear diary,” she spoke aloud, tracing the air with her finger. “It's me, Frankie. Frankie Bergstein. I know I haven't written to you in a while. Hopefully you still remember me. I’m sure you do.”

She stopped for a moment, thinking she probably should have used her phone for this, but she'd already started, and she didn't want to interrupt the celestial transmission of her message.

“Anyway...it's been three days since I've spoken to Grace. I thought she'd come to me first after our latest squabble, but I'm beginning to think it was more than that,” she paused, biting her lip as she shook her head. “No...I'm sure it was more than that.”

She looked up at the sky, or at least what she could see of it from inside, watching the clouds pass through the atmosphere, jealous of how easy they seemed to have it.

“What she said really hurt me,” she swallowed. “And I took a vow when this all started, a vow between me and myself not to get hurt again...but I’m not sure that’s possible. Because love always means there’s a risk of getting hurt, even with the most certain, life affirming kinds of love. There’s no telling what we might face if we move forward, but I’ve always believed honesty is the best way to ensure a life of happiness rather than disappointment. Honesty, and openness. And commitment. Full, mind-body-spirit commitment. When I choose to love someone with my whole heart, I tend to throw myself into it like jumping off the rim of a volcano, only without the inevitable fiery death. Because I want a love that knows no bounds. I want a big, wild, ever-expanding love in my remaining years, free from fear and any kind of hiding. But Grace...Grace isn’t like that. She’s a private person, much more reserved. I knew that going in, and yet I still fell for her cagey ways and perfect laugh, as if I ever really had a choice. I've witnessed what it looks like when she lets herself out of that shell of hers...and it's breathtaking. But she's not ready to take the next step yet...and I have to respect that.”

She closed her eyes again, searching for wisdom, for the right words to tell the universe what she wanted to happen next.

“I guess what I'm trying to say is...what if she's never ready? What if she decides this is all too much? That _I’m_ too much. If I open myself up fully, will it just end with me getting hurt? Or if I don't, will I always be left to wonder what’s missing? Because I miss her already, universe...even just these past few days. Help me, oh wise ones. Show me the way forward. My finger hurts now. Signing off. Love, Frankie.”

She closed the invisible book in her hands, bringing it to her chest. The house was so quiet. Too quiet.

She took another deep breath, sitting with the silence, letting herself feel everything that was bubbling up, until her eyes began to water. _No_ , she shook her head, standing quickly, blowing out the candles. Even she had her limits.

Afterwards, she went back to the studio, where she began to paint, braid sweetgrass, fix her broken jewelry, do whatever she could to keep her hands busy and her mind still. Eventually Grace would come home. Frankie only hoped by then she'd be ready to talk, even if she didn't know exactly what she wanted to hear.

* * *

“Madison, don't put your mouth on that!” Mallory yelled, grimacing at her tone as she sat on the bench, rocking Mazie against her knees. “God, I’m sounding more and more like my mother every day, aren't I? How is that possible?”

“No you're not,” Coyote told her, gently rubbing her back. “You're just under extra pressure these days, that's all.”

“At least I have you,” she smiled. “I know I could do it alone, if I had to...but I'm really glad that's not the case.”

“Yeah, well…” he blushed, glancing around the park, making sure there wasn't anyone they knew watching. “That's what ex-boyfriends turned step brothers turned current boyfriends are for, right?”

“Shhh!” she scolded, shifting away. “Don't be weird. We talked about this.”

“Sorry…”

“The divorce isn't final yet,” she reminded.

“I know that,” he swallowed. “And I don't want to make things any harder for you.”

“You're not,” she assured. “I just think we need to keep it under wraps for a while. For us. For the kids.”

“Especially the kids,” he agreed. “Plus, Bud would pitch a fit if he knew. This is _his_ time. He never gets the spotlight to himself. I don't want to steal his thunder.”

“We can wait till after the wedding,” Mallory nodded. “Or better yet, let them have their baby first. Then maybe…”

“I wasn't thinking _that_ long,” Coyote leaned closer again. “But whatever you need me to do, I'll do it.”

“That's why I love you,” Mallory brought her hand to his cheek, resting it there before pinching the fuck out of it.

“Ow!” he winced.

“Macklin!” she warned, catching him about to throw another fistful of sand at his sister. “Stop it!”

Coyote did his best not to laugh.

“Come on, man,” he added. “Don't make the real coyote come after you!”

He got up from the bench, chasing the kids through the jungle gym, growling to the tune of their delighted squeals. Mallory squeezed Mazie a little tighter, shaking her head as she watched them whizz by. She couldn't believe it took her this long to figure out what she needed. But in the end, she was just glad she did.

* * *

“Thank you for taking your mother up on our invitation,” Dr. Judy smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Brianna answered flatly, settling into the couch, crossing her legs beneath her short red skirt. “But I'm here, so...analyze away.”

“I'm not here to analyze you,” Rebecca clarified. “Today, I'm just here to listen, to serve as a mediator if needed.”

“Oh it's needed,” Grace insisted. “She hasn't spoken to me in over a week except by text. It's a miracle I even got her here in the first place, but I let down my defenses, begged for her to come, because I can't handle any more tension in my life. I need you to talk to me, Brianna. What have I done that's so awful?”

“I mean…” she pursed her lips, squinting as she glanced towards the window. “...today?”

“You see?” Grace turned back to Dr. Judy. “This is what I get. Ever since we were together for Bud’s big baby announcement, she's been doing this. I don't understand it.”

“Did something happen then that upset you?” Rebecca asked.

“ _No_ ,” Brianna argued. “God, I thought we were here to talk about our entire relationship. There are a million other starting points that we could pick. Why are you so focused on the other night?”

“Because, you were really nasty to me, and I don't think I deserved it,” Grace huffed. “I know I haven't always been the greatest, but we've talked about that, and I'm trying. You even _chose_ to spend time with me over the past few years, more so than you ever did when you were younger. I gave you my company. I'm proud of you, despite what you may think. So what is so wrong with…”

“Everything, okay!?” Brianna exploded. “Everything is wrong...with me. Not just you.”

“Well,” Grace blinked. “That's...not what I was going to say. But, okay. Let's go with that.”

“You see?” Brianna threw up her hands. “She won't tell me there's _not_ anything wrong with me because she agrees that there is.”

“I'd like us to step away from the language of ‘wrong,’” Rebecca suggested. “We all have our issues, but there's nothing intrinsically wrong with you. That kind of judgement doesn't serve us here.”

“Well I don't know what else to call it then,” Brianna critiqued. “Is there a word for the reason why everyone else seems to be moving forward with their lives and I'm stuck in neutral? I have a job. I have a dog, and that's it. No boyfriend, no kids, not that I want them. It's just me. It's always going to be me. There has to be a reason for that.”

“Brianna, that's just not true,” Grace tried. “I'm sorry about Bryan, but it's…”

“Barry.”

“Barry. I'm sorry about Barry, but that was just one relationship. You're so young. You can't give up when you've got a whole life…”

“Like you?” Brianna clipped.

Grace’s mouth fell open. She swallowed, closing it quickly.

“What do you mean?”

“You were with dad for _forty years_ ,” Brianna began. “You were miserable, and you did _nothing_. You would have stayed with him until one of you died if he hadn't left to be with Sol. Do you have any idea what a person learns about relationships when she can tell her parents don't actually love each other? That they merely tolerate each other’s existence? You and dad were never partners. You were adversaries. I needed a role model. Someone I could look up to and say ‘Hey, this is what being a successful woman _and_ a successful spouse looks like.’ The closest thing I got was Frankie, and it turns out that was a lie too. So what the fuck am I supposed to do now, huh? How do you expect me to have any hope that things will get better when all the evidence I have tells me it won’t.”

“Brianna, that’s not fair,” Grace stopped her. “I can't…”

“No, let her finish,” Rebecca chimed in. “It's okay.”

"I just…” Brianna sniffed, cringing at her own weakness, tears coming against her will. “I see so much of myself in you...and I’m afraid I'll never be happy. That I'll never find love, or let someone love me like I deserve."  

“How do you know that?” Grace spoke sharply. “Honest to god, Brianna...I'm not dead yet. My story's not over. You have no idea what I’ve been through. You don't know everything about me, because I didn't even know everything about myself until recently. I still don't. I'm learning, and I may be your mother, but you can't put all this on me. I'm a _person_ too. And yes, I've made mistakes. But I'm not gonna let you tell me I'm responsible for your unhappiness.”

“So you're not sorry about any of it then?” she sassed. “Nothing?”

“I'm sorry you had to witness such an unhappy marriage, but it wasn't completely without love. I did love your father. I still do...as a person, just not as a husband. We needed each other then. We taught each other so many things...some of it painful, some of it not so much. But that's over, and he's moved on. I'm moving on...even if you can't see it.”

“What about everything you said to me?” Brianna swallowed. “About me being wrong. My attitude, my feelings...the way I look. It's never been good enough.”

“For that, I am sorry,” Grace admitted. “I never should have said those things. I was just trying to help. That's all I've ever tried to do was help. All I want...all any parent ever wants...is for their children to have it easier than they did. For them to be a success, in every part of their lives. I may not have always known the best way to show it...but I love you, Brianna, and it kills me to see you like this. You don't have to be strong all the time, but you can't give up. I won't let you.”

Grace reached out, putting her hand on her daughter’s, trying so hard to break through. Brianna kept looking away, leaning against the other arm of the couch, until finally, she let her mother take her hand, holding it in her lap.

“I'm sorry,” Grace told her again. “Really, I am.”

“I'm sorry too,” Brianna whispered, taking a tissue from her purse.

“Would you be willing to come back another day?” Rebecca asked. “I think we still have lots to cover, but I want to check in with Grace a little before our session’s up. Does that sound okay?”

“Sure,” Brianna agreed.

“It's okay,” Grace breathed, squeezing her hand. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Brianna stood, straightening out her skirt. “Love you, mom.”

“Love you, sweetheart,” Grace swallowed. “You wanna wait outside for me to finish? We’ll get lunch.”

“I can't,” Brianna pushed her hair behind her ear. “Not today. I have meetings. But soon.”

“Okay,” Grace nodded.

Brianna picked her purse up off the sofa, shutting the door behind her as she left.

“Well,” Grace sighed heavily. “That was a lot.”

“Was it what you expected?” Rebecca asked.

“Not really,” Grace noted. “I mean...I knew some of those things. This has been a long time coming, trust me. But I didn't...I had no idea how much she blames me for everything.”

“Not everything,” Rebecca corrected. “Try not to catastrophize beyond the scope of what she said, alright? You both have things to work on, separately and together. I'll give you a referral for another therapist she can see on her own if she chooses. I think that might help.”

“Thank you,” Grace smiled sadly, though it quickly faded. “You know...she's right though, about me and relationships. I've always been a nightmare. Nothing’s changed.”

“Why do you say that?” Rebecca shook her head. “Just because your marriage ended? You said it yourself: you weren’t clear about who you were back then.”

“Not just that,” Grace breathed, picking apart the tissue in her hands, tearing it to pieces. “Frankie and I...had a fight the other day. I haven't spoken to her since, even though every minute we stay upset at each other makes me feel more insane.”

“How do you know she's still upset if you haven't talked?”

“Oh of course she is,” Grace laughed hopelessly. “I would have heard from her otherwise. I feel like...I feel like she tested me...and I failed.”

“At what?”

“We had a talk. About...coming out, if you can call it that. The circumstances were very strange. But the bottom line is...I don't know if I can. Not yet at least. Not as soon as she wants me to.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Rebecca told her. “You've just started peeling back the layers yourself. We’ve only talked about your relationship with her. We haven't even gotten into who you are as a person, how you might identify as an individual in all of this.”

“Exactly,” Grace sighed. “But Frankie...she seems ready to jump in with both feet all of a sudden, march right out into the next Gay Pride parade, whenever that is. I'm not like that. I never have been. It takes me a while to warm up to things...even if I know I'll get there eventually. I want to give her what she wants...so badly. But that really scared me.”

“What do _you_ want, Grace?” Rebecca asked gently.

Grace looked up at the ceiling, lips trembling as she held back a sob, arms crossed.

“I want to be brave,” she exhaled, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I want to let myself be happy, let people _see_ me be happy. I don't want to end up like Brianna thinks I will. I want to show her...show myself...that I can do this.”

“Good,” Rebecca nodded. “That's excellent. But it has to be on your time, no one else’s.”

“I'm just so afraid,” Grace shook her head. “What if it takes me longer than she's willing to wait?”

“I don't see that happening,” Rebecca soothed. “It sounds to me like you've been patient. Now it's her turn. And beyond that, look at how much you've already been through. You went from not being able to stand each other to living in the same house, to being best friends, to something even more powerful than that. You know, love doesn't always happen overnight. It's not some fairytale like we're taught as children. Love that's slow, love that takes its time isn't any less special or real. Sometimes, it can be even deeper, more meaningful, because you've taken the time to get to know the other person, and you love them for exactly who they are, scars, hangups and all. It's not about some earth shattering moment, some grand declaration. It's about how you’ve grown together as people. And you and Frankie have really grown. And you're not done yet.”

“You think so?” Grace whispered.

“Look, Brianna has a lot of work to do, but that's different from your work,” Rebecca explained. “You can still show her you know how to love. But you have to be willing to show yourself first.”

“Thank you, Dr. Judy,” Grace sniffed. “I...I can do that. I think.”

“Start by talking to her again,” she smiled. “Then see where that takes you.”

“Okay,” Grace laughed tearfully, stomach twisting, even as her hope returned. “I will.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few days since their fight. Time for a very important conversation...
> 
> Hope you enjoy (: If you like it, please let me know what you think. I appreciate all your love and comments!

It took way too long for Grace to get home from therapy. San Diego traffic was always a nightmare, but today it felt even more hellacious, more personal, particularly because she felt like a timer had been set, some kind of metaphorical stopwatch, and god knows how much she hated thinking metaphorically. But she'd been practicing what she wanted to say to Frankie for at least an hour, reciting it over and over again as she drove, and it still didn't sound right. For once she wished she'd kept one of Frankie's affirmation tapes in her car, both so she could steal some language from it and for the emotional support. That’s how anxious she was feeling.

When she walked into the kitchen, she was thankful not to see her right away. She still needed a few minutes to put her game face on, to prepare for what would perhaps be the most important conversation of her life. She went to the freezer, taking out the bottle of Grey Goose, staring at it like a dear old friend, thinking this would be way easier with a few shots coursing through her system. But she knew that wasn't wise. Frankie would smell the liquor on her breath right away, and she couldn't risk her sincerity being questioned. She needed Frankie to know she'd thought long and hard about this, that she meant every word.

She put the bottle back in the fridge, closing the door, resting her forehead against the cool metal surface. Just as she was starting to feel ready, a knock broke through the silence. She pushed off the appliance, clenching her jaw in frustration. Whoever this was, she thought, they'd better have an incredibly important reason for delaying her mission.

As soon as she turned the corner, she lifted her hand to her brow, squinting against the late afternoon sun, until her eyes focused on the person standing outside. Her knees locked in place. Her feet froze, mouth falling open in utter disgust.

“ _Nick_ ,” she couldn't help but seethe as she opened the door. “What the hell are you...”

“Good to see you too, Gracie,” he stepped inside, casually brushing past her sleeve as he made himself at home where he was most definitely not welcome.

“Don't...you don't get to call me that!” she gaped. “No one calls me that. And more importantly, I need you to leave. Right now. I'm way too busy for this.”

“Come on, Grace,” he spun around, hanging from one of the pillars in the foyer like a lamppost, acting as if he owned the joint. “All work and no play makes for a very dull girl, you know that. Not to mention long nights with lots of migraines and little to no fun. Trust me. I've been up to my eyebrows in BS for weeks. That's why it's taken me so long to get back to you.”

“About what?!” she crossed her arms. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear, but since it seems you need to hear it again, let me be even clearer: _Fuck off_ , Nick. I am not interested, nor will I ever be.”

“Wow, why so hostile?” he picked up the ceramic bowl holding her keys, turning it over in his hands. “Can't we just hash it out over drinks?”

“There's nothing to hash out, and put that down!” she steamed, checking over her shoulder, praying Frankie wasn't seeing any of this. “Please. I need you to…”

“Why are you always yelling?”

“I don't know, maybe because you forced yourself inside my house for the second time now?! Maybe because I went against all my better instincts and went on a date with you and you _still_ won't take no for an answer? Is that enough?”

“Yeah, but our date got cut short, remember?” he pointed out. “You still owe me.”

“I don’t owe you _anything_!” she balled up her fists, face turning red. “God, what do I have to do to get rid of you? Do you want me to sue you for sexual harassment, is that what it's going to take?”

“If that’ll keep you engaged in the conversation, sure,” he smiled, seemingly unaffected by the threat.

“Get out!” she opened the door. “Now…”

“Grace…”

“I am _seeing someone_!” she blurted, freezing again, breath catching at her own admission.

“Really?” he stepped closer, eyebrow raised. “Gee, that was fast. There wasn't anyone when we went out the other day. At least I'm pretty sure...”

“Yeah, well,” she sighed. “Things change.”

“Who is he then?” he asked. “Let me see how he measures up, because I don't buy it.”

“It doesn't matter if you buy it. Listen, I'm about ten seconds away from calling the police if you don't…”

“Just give me a name,” he pressed, leaning towards her with one hand against the wall, backing her into a corner. “One name and I'll walk out of your life forever. You can go on living here alone, making your fancy vibrators with...”

“Kooky!” she exploded. “I mean...Frankie. That's who.”

“I'm sorry...what?”

“She's the one,” Grace swallowed. “The person I'm seeing.”

“Oh come on,” he laughed incredulously. “You expect me to believe that? You and Kooky?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Grace insisted. “We’re perfect for each other. She keeps me on my toes and I keep her level headed, and we have a hell of a lot of fun in the process, more than you could ever wrap your thick, greasy head around. Now please, just…”

“I still don't buy...”

“It's true,” Frankie suddenly appeared, storming in from the other room. Grace didn't know how long she'd been waiting in the wings, but she'd never been happier to see her. “She's with me. I mean, I'm with her too. It's not like I'm the more dominant one. I mean, not that there always has to be a dominant one, and not that I can’t be, not in a bad way, I mean I’m up for it, I just...yes. We’re together.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he grinned, looking back and forth between them, eyes settling on Grace. “You and her?”

“Yes,” she slipped away, straightening out her shirt, pushing back her shoulders. “That's right.”

“Prove it then,” he dared. “If you two are really an item, I wanna see some proof.”

“Uh, no way, Mr. Skumbag,” Frankie refused. “We are not putting on any kind of show for you.”

“No,” Grace reiterated. “We most certainly are not.”

“Yes, so kindly get the fuck out of our house,” Frankie stalked towards him. “Before I throw you out. Or better yet, put a hex on you from my book of anti-misogynist witchcraft. There's one for inverting penises I’ve been dying to try. That should make you think twice before showing up again.”

“Alright,” he put up his hands. “You know what? I have to say, this is hysterical. I've been turned down a lot of different ways, but this one takes the cake. Farewell, Gracie. I'll see you around.”

“I’d better not,” Grace huffed, crossing her arms again, heart beating so fast, she was afraid she might not be able to stand much longer.

He winked at her, shaking his head before stepping over the threshold. Frankie promptly slammed the door in his face, sticking her tongue out as he continued to laugh all the way up the steps. She watched him through the windows, listening for the sound of his car, making sure he really left before she locked up. Slowly, she turned back to Grace.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” Grace sighed. “I...I think so. I might need a restraining order after all, but I’m pretty sure you scared him off for now.”

“Well...good,” she nodded.

Grace felt like all the blood had rushed away from her limbs and into her chest, like at any moment she might be struck by lightning, or the floor might open up and swallow her whole. She couldn't speak, let alone think. All she could do was look at Frankie, watch the way her best friend stared back at her, keeping her own emotions at bay, blue eyes glistening with tears, pent up from days of not speaking or spooning or even seeing each other.

Frankie brought her hand to her chest, fiddling with her necklace, using it as a thin veil for hiding the way she pressed her fingers to her sternum, until she was able to pull herself together. Finally, she broke their gaze. She looked down at the floor, taking a few steps towards the studio as she began to retreat.

“Wait,” Grace stopped her, grabbing her hand, hoping against all hope it wouldn't be rejected.

When it wasn't, she felt the life begin to seep back into her arms, the energy flickering between them as Frankie continued to look elsewhere, but she didn't push her away, and that at least was a start.

“I meant everything I said,” Grace breathed, speaking through tears that came almost instantly. “You’re my person. You're everything to me...and I don't care who knows it. Our families, the entire world. You're the only thing that matters to me, the only person...I can ever see myself being with, even if it does still scare me a little. Because I'm so in love with you, Frankie. So very, deeply in love. And I don’t know how it happened, but it doesn't matter, because you're my best friend, and I don't know what else to do except love you...and hopefully that's enough. Because losing you...losing you would be the worst thing to ever happen to me, and I can't...”

Frankie threw her arms around her neck, hugging her so tightly, fingers gripping her striped shirt before kissing her hard, gently pressing her back against the wall.

Grace let out a deep, soul shuddering sigh, body shaking as she kissed her back, hands sweeping up to her face and neck and into her hair, letting herself be taken by surprise, holding Frankie in her arms just as firmly as she could.

“I'm so sorry,” Frankie panted, pulling back. “I shouldn't have pushed you. That wasn't fair. I don't care who we tell or when we do it...I just love you. This is all I want. It's everything.”

“We can figure it out,” Grace smiled, sniffling as she brushed her fingers through Frankie’s long mane, down to her rosy cheeks, taking in everything about her, the way she looked, the way she smelled, wanting to remember everything about this moment. “Just say you’ll be with me. Please?”

“I'm with you,” Frankie nodded. “Always. I'm your girl.”

“You are my girl,” Grace laughed, kissing her again, eyelids fluttering as her heart filled to capacity and beyond, Frankie’s lips sucking her in, brushing over her own so relentlessly, she could barely keep up, but she knew she'd spend the rest of her life trying.

Frankie pulled her down the hall towards the kitchen, slipping her tongue into Grace’s mouth as hands roamed hurriedly, tearing at Grace’s shirt, pushing up beneath it, until they were rounding the corner to the stairs. Grace never danced more steadily as she did then, carefully climbing each step backwards as Frankie held her by the waist, bracing against the wall with her other hand, until they reached the landing. Grace pulled Frankie back against another wall, forgetting the end table there, crashing against it, knocking several framed photos to the floor, ignoring them. Frankie pushed her onto the piece of furniture, frantically trying to unbutton Grace’s shirt as she wrapped her legs around her waist, kissing wildly, pressing her hips into Frankie’s warm stomach.

“I can't carry you,” Frankie whispered regretfully, shaking her head. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't you dare try,” Grace laughed, shimmying off the table, taking over again as she led them into the bedroom, where she fell onto the bed, sitting on the edge as Frankie stood before her. She looked down at Grace, skin flushed and pink and trembling, keeping their eyes connected as she slowly lifted her necklace over her head, followed by her flowy white shirt, dropping them both to the floor.

Grace blinked several times, lips parting at the sight of Frankie standing there, breasts bare and full and soft. They were just as beautiful as they were thirty years ago. Even more so now that Grace knew the person they belonged to so much better, almost better than she knew herself.

“Can I…” she swallowed, asking for permission.

Frankie nodded, stepping closer. Grace planted her lips on her stomach, hands wrapping around her waist, tracing her lower back as she rested her face against Frankie’s skin, shutting her eyes, listening to the sounds her body made as she held her. Frankie’s head fell back, breath escaping her lungs as Grace kissed her flesh, hands climbing up to her chest, until Frankie pushed them back against the bed, knees planting on either side of her hips. She hovered above skillfully, gray hair cascading around them, creating a canopy as they kissed, fingers returning to the buttons on Grace’s shirt.

“Wait…” Grace whispered. “It's still light out, I...I mean...I usually don't do this unless it's…”

“What do you want me to do?” Frankie asked, holding her face in her hands, trying not to shake. “You want me to close the blinds?”

“Yes, please,” Grace nodded, letting her up, watching the muscles in her back move as she shut the curtains, giving them total privacy. “And...here, I'll get under the covers first…”

“Don't do that,” Frankie stopped her. “Please...I mean...if that's the only way you’ll be comfortable, okay. But I'd rather see you.”

Grace knew she looked panicked. She'd really never done this before, let someone undress her with the lights on, not even Phil. But Frankie was already half naked, already giving so much more than Grace ever expected so soon, and she knew it wasn't easy for her either. But this wasn’t just anyone. This was the woman who’d become her home, the person who made her feel the most like herself, who accepted her just as she was. She figured if there was ever a time to be brave, now was it.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Only if you want to,” Frankie told her, sitting on the bed.

“I do,” Grace confirmed, breathing deeply as she unbuttoned the rest of her shirt, slowly slipping it off her shoulders, letting the material pool around her hips.

Frankie looked down between them, eyes raking over Grace’s tan, smooth skin, admiring her lace, cream-colored bra, biting her lip as her eyes lit up.

“So this is what you've been hiding under all those robes,” she smirked. “You really are a tease.”

“I am _not_ ,” Grace blushed, taking Frankie's hands, bringing them to her cleavage. “Here...touch me.”

Frankie visibly shivered as she traced her fingers over Grace’s chest, studying her like a painting, taking in every line, every mark, before kissing her again. Soon, they were both falling back against the comforter, crawling up towards the pillows.

“Careful of your back,” Grace whispered, letting out a soft moan as Frankie kissed her breathlessly, straddling her waist, cupping her breasts through her bra, squeezing them like they were the most incredible thing she'd ever felt. Grace’s head fell back against the pillows, and she walked her own hands up to Frankie’s breasts, taking them so tenderly, fingertips skating across dark nipples, sending shocks through both their bodies.

“Aaah…” Frankie sighed, hands gripping Grace’s shoulders tenaciously, unraveling by the second.

“Is that good?”

“Yes,” she shook, kissing Grace again, hips rocking forward of their own volition. “But I...I need more of you.”

“Me too,” Grace whispered, reaching beneath her own back, quickly removing her bra before flinging it towards the windows.

“Jesus,” Frankie marveled, taking in the sight. “You’re stunning.”

“Thank you,” Grace smiled, even as her skin ignited, small, still ample breasts hanging against her body. She pushed every self conscious thought from her mind, fighting to stay present. “You are too. You're so...I can't even begin to…”

“Yes you can,” Frankie leaned down, whispering in her ear, nuzzling her cheek. “Show me.”

Grace swallowed, looking up at Frankie’s soft, still very toned body, every wrinkle, every imperfection so perfectly a part of who she was, so new and familiar at the same time, it made her head spin.

“I feel like a teenager again,” she admitted, laughing at herself, smoothing her hands up Frankie’s arms and over her shoulders. “I don't know what to do.”

“How about this?” Frankie gently pushed off to the side, pulling back the covers, slipping beneath them. She waited, watching as Grace did the same. “Does that help?”

“A little,” Grace blinked, rolling onto her side.

Frankie reached out again, pulling their lips together, kissing so sweetly and boldly as she dove in with her tongue, running her hands through Grace’s feathered hair, down her long neck. She traced her collarbones like they were made of clay, but even more precious than that, like she was trying to memorize the shape of her. Grace kissed back hungrily, legs wrapping around Frankie’s hips, tangling together beneath the sheets, skin pressed against skin as she felt them both heating up, hardly able to believe they were really doing this. But they continued to stroke each other’s breasts, and Grace dipped her head to Frankie’s pulse point, sucking her in as her hands moved down her body, gripping the elastic of her skirt, giving it a tug.

“Is this okay?” she checked.

“Yes,” Frankie whispered. “Please...take it off...”

Grace eagerly complied, sliding it down Frankie’s thighs, letting it get lost somewhere beneath their feet. She undid the button on her own jeans next, helping Frankie with the zipper, sliding them down her legs until there was nothing between them but smooth limbs and very thin underwear.

“What…” Frankie began to ask. “What should I…”

“Here,” Grace swallowed, taking her hands again, bringing them back to her breasts, encouraging her to feel as much as she wanted. Frankie squeezed, and Grace shook as she sucked and lapped at her shoulder, her own hands traveling around to Frankie’s back, smoothing their way down her torso, before palming at generous globes. Frankie rolled her hips forward again, and Grace dug in with her fingers, taking as much as she could, gripping onto pliant flesh, rocking her body against the onslaught of Frankie’s wandering, incessant lips and caresses.

“God, Grace…” Frankie spoke between increasingly fevered kisses. “I want…”

“What?” Grace gasped, hands full of Frankie’s ass, arms going a bit numb from the way they were arranged, but she didn't care.

“I think...I mean, if you…”

“Anything,” Grace cradled her face in her hands. “I’m ready for anything. What do you…”

Frankie took Grace’s hand beneath the sheets, keeping their eyes locked as she moved it across her hip bone, encouraging Grace to slide her panties down her thighs. Grace’s mouth fell open, eyes full of so much desire and gratitude, Frankie had no problem letting the garment slip over her knees and down past her ankles, until they were gone.

“Do you want…” Grace started. “Should I take mine off, or do you...”

“I'll do it,” Frankie answered.

Grace closed her eyes, lifting her hips a little as Frankie’s fingers tickled her waist, finding the edge of her lace lingerie, pulling them down just as easily. When they were off, they both laid there for a few moments, neither moving, neither speaking, just sitting with this new level of closeness, adjusting to the idea, the realness of being within centimeters of each other’s fully exposed bodies.

“Now what?” Grace asked, bringing her hand to Frankie’s cheek.

“I…” Frankie swallowed. “I think...I'd better take off my rings.”

“Good idea,” Grace nodded.

Frankie rolled onto her back, bringing her hands out from beneath the covers, struggling only a little as she slipped them off one by one, placing them on the nightstand.

“God, you have so many,” Grace teased.

“Well I don't want to scratch you,” Frankie insisted.

“That's thoughtful,” Grace smirked, propping herself up on one elbow, bringing her other hand to the sheet covering Frankie’s chest, tracing her nails over the fabric. “You're very sweet.”

“Are you done making fun of me now?” Frankie narrowed her eyes.

“I'm not making fun,” Grace laughed. “But you might want to consider wearing less jewelry in the future, when we do this again.”

“Again?” Frankie glowed. “You're already thinking about next time and we haven't even done anything yet.”

“I wouldn't call what we just did nothing,” Grace breathed. “That was something.”

“It was, wasn't it?” Frankie rolled back towards her.

“Yeah,” Grace swallowed. “So...what now?”

“What do you want me to do to you?” Frankie breathed.

“Uh, who says you get to do things to me first?” Grace argued. “I mean...maybe I want to do things to you just as badly. Did you ever think of that?”

“All the time,” Frankie smiled. “Every night for the past several weeks in fact.”

“Really?” Grace gaped. “And...was there a very well crafted vibrator involved in assisting you with these fantasies?”

“Sometimes,” Frankie admitted. “But other times...I needed my fingers. I needed to imagine...what it would be like...if you put your fingers inside me.”

“Is that what you want?” Grace continued to trace her cheek. “My fingers?”

Frankie inhaled through her nose, shutting her eyes as she nodded.

“Okay,” Grace swallowed, slowly trailing her hand down her arm, tickling along the way.

“But I want to touch you too,” Frankie negotiated.

“Sure,” Grace told her. “I mean, yes...please…”

Soon, Grace’s hand was on Frankie’s hip, tracing her thigh, until it was slipping down further. Her mind continued to spin with every lingering question, every moment they'd shared, every ounce of love that had taken over her entire being for this woman, until her hand was resting gently between her legs. Frankie let out a slow, deep breath, and Grace couldn't believe how soft she was, slowly, very slowly, letting her fingers flit over her skin. Before Grace knew it, Frankie’s fingers were also moving, also dipping between her thighs, gently stroking their way over her mound.

"How does that feel?" Frankie asked.

"Nice…” Grace shuddered. “Really nice, actually. Do you like it?"

"Yes,” Frankie swallowed. “It feels...like mine, except...less hair...”

“Years of waxing will do that to you,” Grace shared. “There's not much left.”

“That's okay,” Frankie whispered. “You feel so beautiful. You _are_ so beautiful…”

“Thank you,” Grace smiled, breath catching as her hips fell open a bit more.

“Should I?”

“Yes…” Grace sighed. “Please...is it...okay for me to…”

"Yes...god, it feels so good,” Frankie closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of Grace’s fingers pressing deeper into her flesh.

“I like making you feel good,” Grace whispered. “I can get the vibrator, if you…”

“Maybe later,” Frankie breathed. “But I like you touching me..."

"I like touching you," Grace nodded. “How about lube?”

“Yes,” Frankie exhaled. “That could be good. Do you have some?”

“Hold on,” Grace reached across her, into her nightstand drawer. Somehow they'd ended up on the wrong sides of the bed, but that was fine, because now she was straddling Frankie again, her own warm center pressed against her thighs as she dug into the drawer, pulling out the small jar she’d taken from the refrigerator a few days ago. Frankie always kept a fresh batch in there, and it was an unspoken agreement since the first time she offered that it was there for both of them to share, so Grace kept doing it.

“Should I just…”

“Do it like you would for you,” Frankie told her, watching Grace scoop some onto her fingertips, putting the jar aside. She fell next to her again, watching Frankie do the same, letting the sweet smelling substance coat her fingers, until she turned back to Grace. Without saying anything else, they both brought their hands back down between them, and soon, Frankie was sliding her fingers through Grace’s folds, sending her body into overdrive.

“Ohh…” she shuddered hard, eyes closing as Frankie slowly trailed them back and forth, exploring, searching.

“Good?”

“Yeah…” she kissed her, pushing her own fingers into Frankie’s warmth, reveling in the way her body reacted, twisting and writhing, as she continued slipping over all of Grace’s spots, finding them one by one, eliciting moans along the way.

“Fuck,” Grace whined. “It's so…”

“You have such skinny straight fingers,” Frankie told her. “Compared to my gnarled branches.”

“Your fingers are beautiful,” Grace exhaled. “And they’re managing quite nicely, so hush.”

“You want me to stop talking?”

“No,” Grace shook her head. “No, I mean...everything feels so good, I just…unnggh…”

“Oh my god,” Frankie kept moving, finding Grace’s clit, letting her finger brush against it softly, then a little more quickly, as best she could.

“Fuck…” Grace pressed deeper as she reciprocated, Frankie’s clit throbbing against her hand, fingers slipping lower, deeper. “Do you want…”

“Yes…” Frankie practically begged. “Please...I need you…”

“Inside?” Grace whispered. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, god...yes…”

Grace followed her instincts, bringing her fingers down to Frankie’s entrance, slipping one finger in easily, then another, letting her adjust, before pushing up on her elbow, hovering a little as she moved them slowly out, then in again.

“Oh my god...” Frankie’s jaw hung open. “Grace…”

“I love you...” Grace breathed. “So much.”

“I love you too,” Frankie sighed, pressing and flitting her own fingers against Grace’s clit, circling.  

“Oh...oh god...oh I'm…” Grace couldn't help but slow her own movements, body tensing, breathlessly moaning as she came.

“Did you…”

“Yeah,” Grace trembled, bringing her attention back to Frankie’s clit, slipping her thumb past it as quickly as she could, fingering her so sweetly yet furiously, as Frankie’s head rocked against the pillow.

“Grace…”

“Yes…”

“Oh god...fuck…”

Grace kept moving in and out, kissing her chin, her cheek, her shoulder, until Frankie shut her eyes tightly, biting her lip so hard Grace was sure she’d be bruised tomorrow, walls clenching around her fingers, until she came. Frankie let out a final gasp, grabbing Grace’s arm, pulling her fingers from inside her until she was clasping her hand, holding it still against her sweaty, shaking body. Grace watched her, waiting on bated breath, until Frankie opened her eyes again, laughing wildly up at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” Grace laughed a little too.

“Okay?” Frankie blinked. “Okay!? I don't know that I'll ever be okay again. God, that was…Grace really, I didn't know if you had it in you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Grace sulked playfully, collapsing against the pillows.

“No, that's not what I meant. I just...for first timers, I think we might have broken some kind of record. Set a new standard for...figuring it out as quickly as we did.”

“So it was good for you then?” Grace asked, desperately in need of positive feedback.

“Are you kidding?!” Frankie shook her head as she squirmed against the sheets. “That was brilliant. Fuck me, it was good.”

“Thanks,” Grace smiled proudly. “You weren't bad yourself. Not bad at all.”

“Thank you,” Frankie smirked. “I figured from the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you screamed ‘Oh god’ repeatedly. But you didn't say my name. That was kind of disappointing.”

“Frankie…”

“There we go,” she giggled. “All better.”

Grace shook her head as she laid back against the pillows. She curled her arm around Frankie’s shoulders, pulling her against her chest, kissing her forehead as she ran her fingers through her thick, gorgeous hair.

“Well...” she whispered, staring up at the ceiling. “We really did it.”

“We did,” Frankie breathed, laying a tender hand against her chest. “How do you feel?”

“Like…” Grace swallowed. “Like...I could do anything, honestly. Like there's no turning back, which is a good thing, because I don't want to.”

“Still,” Frankie soothed. “We don't have to tell anyone just yet. Not anytime soon. Please don't worry.”

“I'm not,” Grace assured. “I mean...I am, generally. I'm always worried, about something, but I know it’ll be okay. Right now...I'm just so damn thankful to be here next to you.”

Frankie rolled onto her side, looking up at Grace, taking a deep breath as she reached for her hand again. She kissed it slowly, brushing it against her cheek, before lacing their fingers against her chest.

“When I had the stroke...and I learned what might happen if…”

“Frankie…”

“No, please,” she swallowed. “I have to say this. Because everything became so clear to me then. I was so used to feeling immortal. Not like a god or anything, I don't have that kind of ego, but I just...tended not to think about those things. And now I have to. Not all the time, but enough so I make the right choices about how I want to live my life. And that's when I saw it. You and me. I saw it so clearly. Not for the first time, but still...I knew this was what I really wanted. But I didn't think you'd want the same things. That's why I clung to Jacob. That's why I started pushing you away...because you couldn't tell me how you really felt, and I thought that meant…”

“I'm so sorry,” Grace held her tighter. “I should have told you…”

“It’s okay,” Frankie breathed. “I'm not looking for another apology. I’m just so happy it worked out the way it did, because...I want you to be with me. In the end, and every moment before then. Whatever time we have left...I want to spend it with you. Every moment, or at least as many moments as you’ll give me without getting too annoyed. That's the only thing I know for sure, you and me. I know it deep within my bones.”

“I feel the same way,” Grace nodded, stroking her cheek. “I really, really do.”

"I'm just so afraid...eventually, you'll feel stuck with me,” Frankie sniffed.  
  
"I'm not stuck with you,” Grace told her firmly, holding her face again. “Ever. Alright? I'm never, ever stuck with you. I _love_ you. There are a million stupid, ridiculous reasons why I couldn't say it before...but I'm saying it now. I'm here with you. I'll always be here with you. I can promise you that.”

“I know,” Frankie breathed. “Thank you.”

"So that's how you knew then?” Grace asked. “That’s how you realized you were in love with me?"  
  
"Well, that was part of it,” Frankie smiled slyly. “We don't have to be totally morbid. I also think you're a lot of fun. And very sexy."  
  
"Shhhh..."  
  
"What?” Frankie smirked. “We're lying naked together in bed and I can't call you sexy? You are, Grace. It's intoxicating."

“Stop...”

“Don't get shy on me now,” Frankie collapsed against her shoulder. “You thought I was big on compliments before? Just wait. I'm gonna being saying all kinds of nice things to you, so you're just gonna have to learn to deal with it.”

“Poor me,” Grace laughed as she rolled her eyes, kissing her temple. “I just...it might take a little while to get used to...but I will. I promise.”

“I know it,” Frankie breathed. “This is all new for me too. Remember?”

“Of course,” Grace whispered, kissing her forehead, before sniffing the air. “Is that...do I smell burning?”

“Oh shit,” Frankie sat up. “You're not having a stroke now too, are you?”

“No,” Grace waved her off. “I really think I smell burning.”

“Crap!” Frankie flailed. “I turned the stove on before you got home. I was gonna make cookies, then I went back to the studio, then that douche bag distracted me, and then...”

“It's alright,” Grace laughed as she shook her head. “Come on. Let's go.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your wonderfully kind comments on the last chapter. Hope you like this next part! Enjoy (:

Frankie sat at the counter, elbows propped up, resting her chin in her hands as she watched Grace flit around the kitchen. Thankfully, the house hadn't burnt down in her attempt to make cookies. She hadn't even loaded them into the oven yet, but the remnants of other failed batches caught fire beneath the racks, and that was enough to make for a very smoky kitchen while they were upstairs being distracted.

 _That would be just my luck,_ Frankie thought. _We finally have sex, and the whole place goes up in flames._ Grace would have probably thought it was God smiting her for giving in to sapphic pleasure. Then again, she didn't seem to be holding herself to any pious standards now. She was too busy making them dinner, waltzing back and forth between the stove and the refrigerator in nothing but her button down shirt, that tantalizingly sheer bra, and a pair of underwear cobbled together from the mess they'd left strewn across the bedroom floor.

Frankie couldn't help but study Grace’s legs obsessively, the way her skin stretched beautifully over skinny muscles, leading up to thighs that had wrapped themselves around her own body quite memorably, like two boa constrictors fighting for who got to suck the life out of her first. Except they didn't. Instead, Grace, in all her wild yet subtle magic, had breathed life into her again, gotten Frankie back in touch with something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to find. _And to think_ , she smiled warmly,  _this is just the beginning._

She continued to watch Grace work, elated that she could stare so openly now, admire all the funny little things she did, how effortlessly lovely she was. Meanwhile, Frankie had insisted on slipping into pajamas. She figured they might not stay on for very long, but for eating purposes, she always preferred to be comfortable.

“Grilled cheese and tater tots? Is this a dream?!” she asked, doing a little dance in her seat as Grace put the meal in front of her. “Are you really going to let me eat these without complaining about the sodium?”

“Just this once,” Grace warned, grinning from ear to ear. “They're the low sodium brand, but you deserve it. Tomorrow it's back to high fiber, low sugar everything.”

“I've been working on some recipes,” Frankie bragged. “Most of them have flopped, but I did come up with a pretty good batch of black bean weed brownies the other day.”

“Is that was those are? Good thing I didn't give in to temptation. How about this: I take over the cooking from now on, and you just let me feed you.”

“And leave me with the cleaning? I don't think so,” Frankie argued. “Vetoed.”

“Fine, I'll handle dinner and you can take dessert,” Grace debated. “Just so long we make sure the smoke alarms are in full working order.”

“Sorry,” Frankie winced, taking a big bite of her sandwich.

“It's okay,” Grace smirked, resting her hands on Frankie’s shoulder, burying her nose in her cheek before leaving it with a gentle kiss. “I’d say you more than made up for it.”

“No I haven't,” Frankie teased. “Not yet at least.”

“Really?” Grace leaned back against the sink, gripping it with both hands, slowly running her foot up the side of her other calf. “What are you...I mean...what exactly…”

“You’ll see,” Frankie chewed. “Don't you want to eat something first?”

“I nibbled while I was making yours,” Grace lied, a bit impatiently.

“Ah,” Frankie shrugged. “Suit yourself then.”

“You don't have to sit at the counter, you know,” Grace circled behind her, running her fingernails down Frankie’s back, into her hair, clearly incapable of keeping her hands to herself.

“True,” Frankie bit her lip. “I have an idea. But only if you promise to eat a brownie with me.”

“Half a brownie,” Grace negotiated. “And not until I'm ready to pass out.”

“Deal,” Frankie agreed, picking up her plate, waiting for Grace to take one of the pastries out of the fridge before leading them into the meditation room, where they both plopped down into the pile of pillows.

Grace pulled her legs beneath her, adjusting her shirt, knowing damn well how good she looked, Frankie was sure of that. She'd left all the buttons undone, cleavage peeping out from beneath the starched fabric, just a tan strip of skin showing. She ran her fingers through her hair, checking her reflection in one of the windows before leaning over to pull the blinds closed, then resuming her attempts to strike the perfect pose.

“You don't have to do that with me,” Frankie reminded. “I’ve seen you sick as a dog and more hungover than six Ernest Hemingways, and I still like you.”

“Do what?”

“You know what,” she laughed softly. “I have to say...I was pretty surprised earlier. That wasn’t the way I expected things to go down.”

“What do you mean?” Grace continued playing with her shirt.

“I mean you topping me,” Frankie blinked.

“I…” Grace swallowed, bringing her hand to her chest, rubbing her skin nervously. “Well...what did you expect then?”

“Honestly?” Frankie wiped her mouth on her napkin, putting her plate aside, leaning back against the pillows. “I expected to eat you out first.”

Grace immediately turned redder than a stop sign. She took a deep breath, fidgeting, though her facial expression said anything but stop.

“Are you sure you've never done that before?” she asked. “Because you seem very comfortable with...I mean, even talking about...”

“I haven't,” Frankie assured. “But I have thought about it. Plenty of times.”

“In terms of...you and me?”

“Yes,” Frankie nodded. “And before that. I've always been enamored by the female form, as you might imagine, though I didn't think I'd ever get to experience it this way. Sol and I got together when we were so young. I never had the chance to dabble. But there was this one girl in high school, Bridget Spurdiak…”

“There was?” Grace raised an eyebrow. “What was so special about her?”

“Nothing. I mean, she was a really fun chick. I thought I was wild, but Frances Mengela had nothing on Bridget Spurdiak. She made out with anything with two feet. Boys, girls. It was rumored a cow once. But somehow I never made the cut.”

“Well,” Grace sighed, leaning on her elbow as she toyed with some fringe. “Bridget Spurdiak sounds like an idiot if you ask me.”

“Don't be jealous,” Frankie laughed. “That was way before I even knew you existed.”

“True,” Grace eyed her curiously. “But that certainly didn't stop you from painting...or sculpting…”

“Yes, I know, I have a bit of a fixation. Not just with vaginas, all genitals really. They're just so beautiful. Nature’s flower beds. Or I guess...flower beds would be nature’s flower beds. I don't know. Something else. Choose your metaphor.”

“So are you saying...you’re bisexual then?” Grace swallowed.

“I don't know,” Frankie shrugged. “I guess so. I don't discriminate. But again, I had no reason to even think about it, let alone come up with a label for myself. I mean, Sol _did_ have me use that strap on him that one time, but I thought that said more about him than it did me. Clearly I didn't think much of it either way.”

“Wait a minute,” Grace’s eyes went wide. “You actually went through with the strap on thing? You never said…”

“I know,” Frankie waved her off. “I didn't want you thinking I was weird.”

“Too late for that,” Grace scoffed. “I mean it's...there's nothing wrong with it, I just…”

“What?”

“Well…I don't know,” Grace mused. “Maybe I am a little jealous.”

“Of Sol?!” Frankie gaped. “Oh don't be. Please. How can you be jealous of him?”

“How can I not?” Grace went on. “You were married to him for forty years. I'm not sure I can ever compete with…”

“Grace, it's not a competition,” Frankie insisted. “These are completely different experiences. Besides, he's the past. You're my future.”

“I just…” Grace frowned. “I thought you said there were certain things you wouldn't do.”

“There are,” she clarified. “I mean there were, at least. With him. I think maybe I wanted to hang on to some level of control. That's why I never let him do anal on me, but for him…”

“Okay,” Grace jumped in, cutting her off. “I don't know if I really need to hear about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not,” she sighed. “But anyway, like you said, that's in the past. I just...well, I don't know what I thought.”

“Do you want to hear about the first time I thought about going down on you?” Frankie offered. “Would that help?”

“You don't have to placate me,” Grace gave her the side eye. “But...sure. Go ahead. I guess it couldn't hurt.”

“You remember the first time you went out with Guy? And you came home and kissed him right outside our front door?”

“Yeah,” Grace blinked. “What about it?”

“Well...I saw you,” Frankie swallowed. “And it made me crazy jealous. Oh god, was I jealous. And it confused the hell out of me, because I really wasn't over Sol, but I knew I didn't like the idea of you being with anyone else. I saw you kissing...and I just lost my shit. I couldn't even finish my margarita. I had to go in the other room and pour the rest down the drain. And then I went back to the studio and tried so hard not to think about you kissing Guy, and then I had to try even harder not to think about me kissing you instead. And it sort of...spiraled from there. After that, I started listening to what you said about Jacob more. And Guy was such a mensch, honestly. He was always so sweet to me. But fuck if I didn't want to wipe that grin off his face every morning when he came downstairs.”

“Frankie,” Grace blushed. “I...I had no idea…”

“Didn't you though?”

“I mean…okay, I might have suspected just a little...but, really. I thought you were happy with Jacob then.”

“I was,” Frankie shrugged. “You know that. We've been over it. I just wasn't in love with him like I am with you.”

“Well...gosh,” Grace shifted against the pillows, pulling one into her lap. “I don't even know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything,” Frankie scooted closer. “All you have to do is kiss me, and I know where I stand. I mean, words don't hurt either. Everything you said earlier...that really put me over the edge.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Frankie smirked. “Well, that and when you put your fingers in my vagina. I guess that sealed the deal.”

“Christ,” Grace shook her head, letting her arms drape around Frankie’s neck. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Just keep loving me,” Frankie breathed, rolling their foreheads together, bringing her hand to Grace’s cheek. “And let me love you. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” Grace whispered. “I know I can.”

She let Frankie’s lips melt into hers, allowing herself to be pushed back into the pillows. Frankie laid down next to her, forgetting about the tater tots, trading them in for Grace’s warm, wet kisses, her silky skin, the noises she made when Frankie climbed on top of her, positioning one of her knees between her legs. Grace kissed her back so softly, gently grinding against it, and Frankie let her hands fall to Grace’s collar, then up her neck, planting a trail of kisses along her jawline. Grace took both of Frankie’s hands, pinning them next to her head, on either side of the pillows.

“God…” Grace squirmed. “You're really good at kissing.”

“Well...” Frankie smiled against her lips. “I'd like to find out what else I might be good at...if that's okay with you.”

“Yes,” Grace nodded, swallowing hard. “It's just...it's been a really long time since anyone’s...I haven't...I mean…”

“Not even Guy?” Frankie asked, surprised. “Or Phil?”

“No,” she admitted. “Guy left his adventurous spirit somewhere out in the rainforest I think, and Phil...well, he was very traditional. Not in a bad way, just…not exactly what I needed.”

“So then...” Frankie held her face. “You don't mind...if I look at you? With the lights on and everything?”

“Well, let's not talk about it too much or I might change my mind.”

“Sorry,” Frankie whispered. “It's just in my nature to check in. I'm all about consent, you know.”

“I know,” Grace laughed softly, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “I love that about you, really. But yes...yes to looking. Yes to...everything.”

“Okay,” Frankie breathed, kissing her again, a little longer this time, letting her hands wander down Grace’s chest, pushing open her shirt.

“You know what amazes me?” she marveled.

“What?” Grace asked.

“Here we were...all this time...getting so bent out of shape about being left by two bozos who barely paid us any attention, or at least yours didn't. I don't get how Robert could have taken you for granted. Not for a second.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Grace rolled her eyes. “Same reason I took him for granted, I suppose.”

“You mean…” Frankie looked at her sweetly, patiently. “What are you saying?”

“I…” Grace flustered, not really ready to have this conversation. “I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it all out for myself. But I was never happy. Not like this. You make me feel so good, I...I can't get enough of you.”

“I get it,” Frankie smirked, tracing her fingers down Grace’s stomach, tickling and teasing, admiring her soft but still very impressive abs. Really, it wasn't fair or entirely human for a woman in her seventies, but she wasn't complaining. She dipped her head to her skin, brushing her lips over the shallow of her belly button, the line between her hip bones, just above her panties, where the skin became paler, and somehow, impossibly softer.

“God...you called me a tease?” Grace groaned pleasantly. “You're driving me crazy...”

“Maybe that's been my plan all along,” Frankie laughed.

“Well it's working,” Grace pulled her up to her face again, dragging her lips across Frankie’s pout, over her cheek, breathing her in as Frankie hooked her fingers beneath the elastic, slipping Grace’s underwear down her smooth thighs, eyes glued to every inch of skin being revealed as they were kicked away.

“Gorgeous,” Frankie swallowed. “You are...absolutely gorgeous.”

“Even with barely any hair left?” Grace bit her lip.

“Even then,” Frankie continued, stretching her feet out behind her, positioning herself very carefully on the pillows. Grace watched her, clearly nervous, but more turned on than anything else, shifting her knees apart, slowly letting Frankie between them.

Frankie took that as her nudge to keep going, scooting closer, letting her hands once again trace down Grace’s stomach, then her thighs, fascinated by the way her body opened up, how her skin puckered and petaled, the scent, the color, every detail more beautiful than any painting she could have ever dreamed up. She brought her fingers to that space, so sacred, even now she hesitated to take too much too quickly, but Grace was looking at her eagerly, waiting for her to make the next move.

“Are you comfortable?” Grace asked. “I can prop myself up better, if that's…”

“No, this is fine,” Frankie whispered, slowly stroking a line down the center of Grace’s core. “You're just...I'm in awe of you..."

“God…” Grace’s hips bucked, and she blushed furiously. “Frankie...please...”

Frankie locked her arms around Grace’s knees, pulling her closer, before dipping her head again, taking a mouth full, closing her eyes as she tasted her for the first time, dragging her tongue through her warm, wanton slit.

“Gaaahh…” Grace gasped, voice higher pitched than ever before. “Frankie…”

Frankie never felt more driven, more connected, more trusted with anything in her entire life. It was like somehow, her lips had stumbled upon the center of the universe, the meaning behind all meaning, the heart of it all. She let her tongue press inside Grace’s entrance just an inch, just enough to really, truly taste her, the earthy, primal flavor that was Grace Hanson, in all her delicate, neurotic, exquisite complexity. There was so much more to this woman, so much more than she ever let the world see or feel, but somehow Frankie felt it. She knew it was there long ago, way before she fell in love with her, way before she'd ever admitted to anyone that she even liked Grace as a person, but she did. And now, she was tasting her, and everything felt so totally right, it was hard to focus, hard not to just disappear into the soul of her.

“Is that good?” she finally came up for air.

“Yes...” Grace’s hands balanced against her shoulders, breath hitching. “A little...little higher…”

Frankie adjusted, thankful for the instruction, lifting her tongue until it was lapping at Grace’s swollen lips, hands holding her waist, squeezing a little as her tongue worshipped her, finally settling on Grace’s small but gratefully easy-to-find clitoris, so ripe and ready, desperately in need of her full attention.

“Aaaah god!” Grace exhaled. “Oh my...uhhh…”

“Good?” Frankie barely got out.

“Yes...oh god it's...it's so good...so…”

Frankie was totally enthralled by the way Grace rolled her hips into her mouth, needing the fullest contact. Her head fell back, then popped up again, torn between watching Frankie’s face bury itself in her flesh and the need to let go completely, to just enjoy it. Frankie never felt more powerful than she did then, and at the same time more humbled, moving her tongue as fast as she could, watching and listening, adapting when she needed to change the pace. Grace’s hands were everywhere then, in her own hair, in Frankie’s, clutching the pillows, trying to keep herself steady as she began to come apart.

“Ohhh god!” she cried, and Frankie sped up her lashing, flicking her tongue over the swollen node again and again as Grace’s back arched up, whole body tensing, voice hitching and rasping as hands pinched and scraped at the pillows, until her body went limp, breath slowing down, limbs falling still at her sides.

Frankie kissed her a few more times there, slowly, reverently, until she crawled back up next to her, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

“How was that?” she asked, cupping Grace’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

“Frankie…” Grace continued to pant, eyes closed, grabbing her shirt. “I don't know how else to say it...but you were _born_ for this. I know it. Fuck, you're a genius.”

“Thank you,” Frankie smiled widely. “I mean, I'll have to take your word for it, but I do feel like it's my true calling.”  

Grace opened her eyes, sitting up, pulling Frankie in, kissing her with slow, decadent strokes of the tongue, pressing sweetly, then heavily, letting her fingertips graze across her eyebrow, down the side of her cheek. She shook her head, taking her hand as she pulled it against her heart.

“You know...I'm not nearly as good at saying how I feel as you are,” she tried stop her voice from breaking, but failed. “I've never been very good at emotions. But I'm trying.”

“Don't say that,” Frankie assured, holding her. “You're doing so great. Really. And you taste amazing, by the way, before I forget. Although I don't think I will. In fact, I fully intend not to.”

“See?” Grace sighed. “You just...you say things like that, and it makes me feel like...I don't know how to tell you how incredible you are. But you are. Everything about you is just...I know I give you a hard time, about a lot of things...but there's no one in the world like you. You're the most fascinating, brilliant, creative person I've ever met, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You could do anything, be anything...be with someone more like you. Someone more patient, more exciting, yet here you are, with me. In our little beach house. Sometimes...I just still can't believe it.”

“See, you started off strong with that one,” Frankie critiqued. “But then you got into the whole self deprecating thing again, and I sort of lost you. But I still got most of it.”

“Oh dear god,” Grace laughed, rolling her eyes.

“It's true. You're gonna have to learn to be nicer to yourself. I'm here to help, but I think that therapist of yours is gonna earn another couple hundred before you're through with her. It's like the great Rupaul always says: ‘If you can't love yourself, how the hell you gonna love anybody else?’”

“You do love that show,” Grace shook her head. “Anyway...I meant what I…”

“I know you did,” Frankie nuzzled her shoulder. “I heard you. Thank you. It means a lot to me. Almost as much as it will when you eat this weed brownie and get full zen with me on the couch while we watch Ray Donovan.”

“It's only seven thirty,” Grace argued. “I'm not ready to lose track of the rest of the evening. Besides, don't you want me to…”

“Not yet,” Frankie tickled her arm. “You've tired me out, girlfriend. I'll take a raincheck. But don't think I won't follow up on that. Soon.”

“Okay,” Grace smiled, rocking a little against the pillows. “Girlfriend.”

“It sounds nice, doesn't it?”

“Yeah,” Grace breathed, stroking her fingers through Frankie’s hair. “It does.”

Slowly, they helped each other up from the pillows, careful of their backs, making their way to the living room. Frankie finished her dinner, talking Grace into a few extra tater tots, before convincing her to split the brownie. Grace curled up between her legs on the couch, and they barely made it through one episode of Ray Donovan before falling asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and for all your encouragement. If you like the story, please consider leaving a comment. Hope you enjoy!

“No, dad, I can't believe I’m saying this, but you need more sweater sets,” Brianna shook her head as she rummaged through the open luggage. “Japan in October is like anywhere else you've ever been in October. If you want to wear Bermuda shorts, why don't you just go to Bermuda? Or like...a retirement community. In Palm Beach.”

“I haven't settled on my wardrobe yet, that's why you're here to help me,” he defended, taking the rejected garments from her hands, tossing them in a pile on the chair.

“Who starts packing three weeks before a vacation anyway?” she sighed, collapsing onto the bed next to the suitcase, watching him dig through the big wooden bureau by the window. “Is this something mom used to make you do? Because news flash: you’re free. You've escaped. You don't have to do it anymore.”

“I like doing it. And besides, this way I’ll have a witness when Sol asks why I put his Hawaiian shirts back in the closet.”

“Yes, please!” she cheered. “Hawaiian shirts, in the closet where they belong. Next to all of his bolo ties. And sexual repression.”

“Are you going to sit there and keep judging, or are you actually going to help me do this?”

“I’m _helping_ ,” Brianna insisted, picking at the zipper on one of their carry ons. “Where is Sol anyway?”

“He had other plans today, and I always pack when he’s out of the house. He’s terrible at this. We’d be bringing half of what we own if it was up to him. The man is already a pack rat. Throw in his anxieties about international travel, and it starts looking like Mary Poppins trying to shove a coat rack in a duffel bag.”

“Sol would make a fantastic Mary Poppins,” Brianna teased. “What about with mom? Did she help you pack, or was it just you by yourself?”

“Your mother did everything, let's be real,” he sighed, adjusting his pants. “I used to pretend she never let me get near this stuff, but the truth is, I let her do it all. It was easier that way.”

“Because...she was so controlling, or…”

“No, not that. Well, yes, but I was also lazy, or too busy running around with Sol. I never paid attention to all the little things she did for me then, for all of us. I appreciate it way more now.”

“Wait...are you saying you actually _miss_ having her around?”

“Yes,” he looked up at her, then back to the clothes he was folding. “Of course.”

“Huh,” Brianna swallowed. “That's kind of surprising, I guess.”

“Why?” he asked. “Your mother is an expert at creating itineraries, not to mention a meticulous navigator. And she could always find the best happy hour, no matter where we were. It’ll be different traveling with Sol. Not worse, hopefully better. But there are things I’ll miss. There are things I miss all the time, in fact. It doesn't mean I'm not happier, it's just...well, sometimes, you continue to learn about a person after you get divorced.”

“Like...that she’s actually a better friend than a beard?”

“Something like that,” he laughed. “I never meant to let things get so bitter between us. I'm just glad she doesn't see me as the enemy anymore. That makes a big difference. I'm actually enjoying getting to know her now that we spend most of our days apart.”

“Aw, daddy,” Brianna managed almost sincerely. “That's sweet.”

“Yes, well, enough introspection for one day,” he smiled. “Let's get this done before Sol comes back and has a chance to undo everything we’ve already done.”

“True love at its finest,” she quipped.

She stood next to him, watching for a moment, before taking a few books out of Sol’s suitcase, making a mental note to send him the e-book versions before they embarked on their journey.

* * *

“Were you nervous?” Bud asked, balancing on the pedestal in the center of the tuxedo shop as the seamstress pinned his suit.

“What?” Sol answered, trying his best not to move while the tailor worked on his jacket. “What do you mean?”

“When you got married,” Bud clarified. “The first time. My memories are still quite vivid from the second. Pretty sure I had sympathy diarrhea for a week. Not because you cheated, but because...well, you know.”

He adjusted his stance, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from the woman working on his inseam.

“Of course I was nervous,” Sol admitted. “Everyone's at least a little nervous. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar. But it wasn't because I had doubts about marrying your mother. It was more the fact that we were getting married with close to a hundred other people. That's a whole lot of eyes on you at once, and Frankie was part of the contingent trying to get us all to go nude. Thankfully, she lost that one.”

“Whoa. Yeah, definitely would not have appreciated those wedding pictures hanging on our walls when I was a kid,” Bud’s eyes went wide. “But I mean...you didn't have any doubts whatsoever? Not that I am, I just…”

“Bud, it's completely natural what you're feeling,” Sol told him. “Whatever it is, so long as it's not ‘No, I don't want to marry this woman.’ That's not it, right?”

“No, I definitely want to be with her,” Bud sighed. “It's more like...are we rushing into the whole ceremony thing too fast? Should we have waited till after the baby comes? Am I gonna be able to make her happy for the rest of her life? You know, stuff like that.”

“You already make her happy,” Sol smiled. “Don't worry about that part. I've seen the way she looks at you, when she's not blowing her nose or itching something…”

“Come on. Not you too.”

“I'm only kidding,” he laughed. “I think Allison’s perfectly lovely. Her neuroses match well with your neuroses. As long as you're able to be there for each other, help each other continue growing as people, you’ll be just fine. Plus, you're going to have another person to take care of pretty soon. This is an exciting time for you. Don't let the nerves drown out your enjoyment of it. Just acknowledge them, and let it go. You’ll remember the good memories first. I promise.”

“That’s great advice, dad,” Bud smiled. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

“Of course!” Sol beamed. “I never got to do this part. Your mother ended up dressing me in the male version of a schmatta, and with Robert, well...”

“Maybe you two can renew your vows one day. Do it up real big, like you originally planned.”

“Maybe,” Sol shook his head. “For now, I'm just happy to be living vicariously through you. You deserve it.”

Bud had to admit, he did like being the center of attention for once. He closed his eyes, thinking about all the good things to come, anything to take his mind off the pain every time the lady squatting between his legs poked him with a pin.

* * *

Grace finished running the numbers for the day, closing her laptop, sitting back in her chair with an accomplished huff. She pressed her fingers to her temples, rubbing slow, concentrated circles into them as she stretched her jaw. She was tired, but she refused to stop working, even though there wasn't much she could do these days. The company was in a very good place, far better than she could have ever predicted, and they were set to make a hefty profit. Not that either of them needed the money. They were already fortunate enough to be set for life, but now they were well on their way to acquiring a nest egg they could leave their children and grandchildren when all was said and done. _So long as they won't be too embarrassed about where it comes from_ , she thought. Something told her at that point, they'd be willing to put aside their squeamishness.

Still, she didn't really want to think about any of that. Instead, Grace preferred imagining all the ways she and Frankie might enjoy the fruits of their labor now. Maybe they'd treat themselves to more fancy dinners out on the town, or do that remodel on the upstairs bathroom she'd been considering for years. _No_ , she shook her head. _Think bigger, Grace Hanson. What do you really want?_ She was asking herself that question a lot lately, and so far it had paid off in the most spectacularly blissful ways. Maybe they could take a trip abroad, something to rival Sol and Robert’s planned excursion. She didn't care about showing them up anymore, that wasn't it. She just wanted make sure they too were living their lives to the fullest, but something told her with Frankie by her side, that wasn't going to be a problem.

She glanced out the window towards the studio. Frankie had given up on work hours ago, and truthfully, Grace was happy to let her. She could get more done without her sitting there asking a million irrelevant questions or playing the bongos during their new biz sessions. Although earlier, it wasn't any of those things kept her distracted. It was the memory of the other night, the way Frankie’s hands kept finding their way to her lap, or her shoulder, touching her in so many big and little ways, reminding Grace that she was seen and special. It was something Grace had never felt with Robert. Frankie made her feel like she was worth her time and attention, worth her love, worth waiting for all these years. Which was why it took every bit of self control she had to gently push her away, to delay their gratification until she was done working for the day, but that time had finally come.

She opened the door, immediately confronted by the bass pouring out from the studio, reverberating through the stones beneath her feet like tiny earthquakes. How Frankie could handle such noise with her sensitive system was a mystery, but Grace was learning more every day about her touch and go phobias, the things that really scared her and what brought her back from the edge. She was determined to learn it all, to be the best partner Frankie ever had, because she too was absolutely, every bit worth it.

“What is this song?!” Grace raised her voice above the music.

“It's called Itty Bitty Piggy!” Frankie shouted from behind the easel. “By one Ms. Nicki Minaj.”

“Really?” she squinted. “What’s it about?”

“I don't know. Pigs, I think.”

“Well, it's hurting my ears,” Grace complained. “Think you could…”

“Sorry,” Frankie hit the mute button, shutting down the speakers. “But I think you'd really like some of her other tracks. She's a visionary. Number one female emcee.”

“I'll have to remember to check that out,” Grace rolled her eyes. “What are you working on?”

“Just trying to finish this elephant I've been poking away at for too long,” Frankie shifted the canvas so Grace could have a look. “Did you know they live in matrilineal societies? And that they can recognize their companions just by the way they smell?”

“I do now,” Grace smiled softly, crossing her arms. “It's beautiful.”

“I'm really feeling this one, but it's taking forever. Honestly, I’d rather start on another project in the meantime. Wink wink.”

“What does that...” Grace looked confused, until she realized what she was suggesting. “Oh...I don't think so. Not today. Don't you want to come over to the house and order pizza instead? I'll even let you pick the toppings.”

“You know, I don't know whether to be enticed or offended by your food bribes,” Frankie glared. “Just how easy do you think I am?”

“Pretty easy,” Grace mused, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“That's true,” Frankie smirked. “But you don't have to give me pizza. I'll gladly fuck you anyway.”

“I...” Grace’s mouth fell open, cheeks flushed. “That’s...I wasn't…”

“Is that not what you had in mind for this evening?” Frankie kept her attention on the stroke of her brush, looking back and forth between Grace and the art, clearly amused by her ability to scandalize. “A repeat of the other night? Or should we do something different?”

“Is that what you’d prefer?” Grace teased. “Because we don't have to…”

“No, please!” Frankie dropped everything, wrapping her arms around Grace’s tiny waist, holding her tight. “I'm weak. I'll eat all the pizza and have all the sex. I can't play hard to get anymore. It's too much work.”

“You're ridiculous,” Grace laughed, burying her face in Frankie’s neck, taking a long, deep breath. She ran her hands up her back and into her hair, reveling in the scent of sweat and acrylic and essential oils she could never quite place, all mixing together, making her dizzy in just the way she liked. “I told you I'd let you paint me one of these days. Just not today.”

“Oh, come on. Please?” Frankie whined, cradling her face in her hands. “It won't take very long. You can hold back your lust for another forty-five minutes or so, can't you? I'm feeling such powerful, creative energy flowing through me, Grace. I know it's the byproduct of love and orgasms, but I have to use it. This is important. I want to show you how you make me feel with the medium I feel most passionate about.”

“I thought the medium you felt most passionate about was cunnilingus,” Grace sighed. “But when you put it like that, it's hard to say no.”

“I'll just start with an outline, get the plan in place. We don't have to finish it today, I just...I’ve been wanting to paint you almost as long as I've wanted to sleep with you, maybe longer. You're my muse.”

“Oh, hush.”

“No, honestly. You're a living, breathing Mona Lisa, only without the shit-eating grin and arguably forgettable features. You’re as divine as they come.”

“I've seen what kind of painting my countenance inspires,” Grace argued. “But...far be it for me to stand in the way of a Frankie B masterpiece. So long as you promise not to make me look like a villain this time.”

“I promise,” Frankie put her hand to her chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Well then,” Grace swallowed back her reservations, glancing around the messy studio. “Where do you want me?”

“Over here,” Frankie directed, taking her hand, leading her across the room. “On the sofa is fine.”

“You don't want me to take off my clothes, do you? Are we recreating that scene from _Titanic_ , because I'm not sure I…”

“No, nothing like that,” Frankie assured. “Not yet at least. Just...sit right here. And, well, you might as well take off your sweater. I do need to see that beautiful neck of yours.”

“My neck?” Grace slouched, slipping her thick, high collared sweater off her shoulders, leaving her in a long-sleeved tee.

“Oh yes,” Frankie nodded, going back to the easel, putting the elephant aside. “Your neck is truly a gift to the painter’s eye. If Michelangelo was alive today, I know I'd be challenging him to a fist fight over who got to paint you first.”

“That I'd like to see,” Grace snorted. “Considering I'm pretty sure Michelangelo was gay, and you're about as violent as a church mouse.”

“I can get down and dirty when I need to,” Frankie narrowed her eyes. “I was ready to clock that walking dick for brains the other night when he wouldn't leave you alone. Don't think I won't cut a bitch.”

“Okay, can we please get on with this?” Grace fidgeted. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Just sit there, a little taller, and look towards the door.”

“That’s it?”

“That's it,” Frankie repeated. “I'll take care of the rest.”

Grace did her best to sit still, but it was nearly impossible. Her blood was rushing through her veins so quickly she could feel it. It was one thing to let Frankie take artistic license with her image for some silly rendering. It was quite another to be studied, dissected, drawn literally by the person whose opinion, it turned out, meant more to her than anyone else’s.

She kept sneaking a glimpse at the artist, fascinated by what a full body experience painting seemed to be for her. Frankie’s hips swayed as she hummed, creating her own soundtrack, smiling when she made some new discovery, surprising herself. She dabbed at the canvas with a paper towel from time to time, for what purpose Grace couldn't be sure, but she used the same paper towel to dab sweat off her brow. She bobbed a little after that, eyes always stealing back towards the couch, like she was afraid to miss any details.

“Actually...” Frankie bit the end of her brush. “If you wouldn't mind taking your shirt off, that might help.”

“Seriously?!”

“What?” Frankie balked. “This is our house. No one else is here to ogle your goodies but me.”

“Fine,” Grace groaned, lifting the blouse over her head, folding it next to her. “I had a feeling this wouldn’t be as innocent as you claimed.”

“It's completely innocent,” Frankie smirked. “You're just horny. Experience is in the eye of the beholder, Grace. It's whatever you want it to be.”

“I don't think that's how the quote goes, but okay,” Grace breathed, shutting her eyes. “Just...don't take forever.”

“I won't. Hold still.”

Grace stopped moving, ignoring the goosebumps tickling over her biceps, brought on by the early fall air hitting her skin, not to mention the way Frankie’s tongue slipped over her plump bottom lip as she worked. It was so tempting, that damn lip, Grace often had to remind herself to pay the top one just as much attention. Frankie’s cheeks tinged pink as her eyes fell to Grace’s clavicles, then her breasts, dipping the paintbrush into the colors, slipping them expertly across the canvas. Grace could almost feel the memory of her fingers on her body, making her mouth go dry.

Minutes passed, and she relaxed a little more, even as her mind raced with curiosity over what interpretation Frankie might be going with this time. But something about the way she moved, the way her smile grew every time she added another layer, made Grace feel like this might be different. The clock ticked, and she tapped her bare foot against the floor, counting the seconds, until she couldn't take it anymore.

“Okay, time’s up,” she burst. “Can I see it now?”

“Alright,” Frankie relented. “But it's nowhere near finished. Keep that in mind.”

Grace pushed up off the leather sofa, hurriedly crossing the room, holding her breath before laying eyes on the canvas.

Her heart jumped into her throat. She stood there, unable to speak for what felt like minutes, body shaking ever so slightly as her eyes threatened to spill.

“Is that...” she swallowed. “Is that...really how you see me?”

“Well...yeah,” Frankie shrugged, tracing the curve of the outline, rounding Grace’s shoulder with her thumb, not worrying about smudging the fast-drying paint. “How else would I see you?”

Grace bit her lip so hard to keep from breaking, shaking her head as she sniffed back tears. She hated to cry so much, but this was really something. Even in it's blurred beginnings, Frankie had captured a softness, a sensuality she'd rarely seen reflected back to her, but somehow knew was still there. She thought it had gotten lost somewhere along the way, between years of being called frigid and the social dictates that shaped her as such. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen herself without the lens other people put on her, without the performance, the grand masquerade. Frankie saw through all of that, deep down to the young woman she once was, just barely daring to be more than what was expected, to the person she'd become, finally breaking free from all the years of hiding. It was delicate, forgiving, and yet so unflinchingly accurate, it was almost overwhelming.

“Not everyone can do that, you know,” Grace sniffed, voice catching. “Not everyone...can show a person how they really see them."  
  
“Honey, it's barely anything yet,” Frankie reached for her hand, pulling it to her chest. “But I guess it's true. I am talented.”  
  
"I don't care if it isn't finished," Grace stepped closer, leaning her head against Frankie’s shoulder. “It's perfect. You're perfect.”

“Damn,” Frankie nuzzled into the touch, kissing the top of her head. “If I had known it would have this effect, I would have made you sit for me ages ago.”

“It's a good thing you didn't, because I'm pretty sure I would have run for the hills,” Grace laughed, sniffling as she ran her fingers through Frankie’s hair. She looked up at her, following the smiles lines that ran like rays of sunlight from the corners of her eyes, kissing them slowly, burying her nose in her cheek. “I want to show you, too.”

“What?” Frankie whispered, holding her close. “What do you mean?”

“I need to show you...” Grace continued to stroke her hair, wrapping her arms behind her neck.  “...how you make me feel.”

“You do, sweetie,” Frankie told her. “Every day.”

“Yes, but...that’s not what I mean.”

Grace continued to look at her intently, marveling at her smile, her spirit, eyes scanning every inch of her body, before returning to her face.

“Here?” Frankie swallowed, letting her own hands smooth over Grace’s naked shoulders. “Right now?”

“Uh huh,” Grace nodded, kissing her once, then again, the softest, most teasing pecks. “If you’ll let me.”

“That depends,” Frankie smirked, allowing herself be led back towards the sofa, clearly game for anything. “What do you want me to do?”

Grace’s grin turned far from innocent, and she gently pushed Frankie down onto the couch, climbing into her lap, straddling her waist. She ran her hands over her chest, tucking her thumbs beneath the straps of her overalls.

“Nothing,” she breathed, toying with a buckle until it came undone. “Just sit here. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Grace…” Frankie shivered as hands slipped beneath the denim flap, sliding it down to her waist, Grace’s lips and teeth making a pilgrimage of her neck.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Frankie breathed, head falling against the back of the sofa. “Of...of course it is…”

Grace knew Frankie expected her to be a pillow queen. Everyone did. But there were times, far more often than not, when the urge to take the reigns led her to the brink of moving forward. She’d always had that spark, but it was just never encouraged, until now. That’s how she felt in other parts of her life: strong-willed, ready to take on the world, never content to wait until someone else told her she didn't have to. If she wanted something, she was going to ask for it, lean in, take the plunge.

She looked down at Frankie’s lap, then back up to her unfathomably blue eyes, tracing her fingers over the seam between her legs, letting her know exactly what she wanted.

“Are you sure?” Frankie couldn't help but ask.

“Yes,” Grace insisted. “I haven't...haven't been avoiding it because I don't want to, I just...”

Grace didn't have to say it. It was clear that this particular act meant something more for her, that it was caught up with all her lingering questions about her identity, and Frankie seemed to understand that.

“We don't have to do it here though,” Frankie suggested. “We could go back to the house, wherever you're comfortable.”

“Are _you_ comfortable?” Grace checked in, kissing her ear, her temple.

“Yes,” Frankie nodded. “Very.”

“Well then so am I,” Grace smiled, tracing her bottom lip. “Why wouldn't I want to do it right here, on this old, scratched up sofa, when you’re feeling so inspired, and I...feel more loved than I ever have in my whole life.”

Frankie’s smile could have lit up the entire coast of California, it was so bright.

She pulled Grace closer, kissing her slowly, letting their lips melt and dance and sing, letting Grace take the lead, nibbling and diving deeper as their mouths opened and breath picked up. Grace delighted in how Frankie’s body reacted, moaning pleasantly, throat working overtime as she unhooked Grace’s bra, letting it slip away. Her hands found their way to her small, rounded breasts, and she kneaded them firmly, dipping her head to take one taut, rose colored nipple into her mouth.

“Frankie…” Grace sighed, and it was all she could do to stay sitting up, to not collapse against her, but she continued holding onto her shoulders, letting the other woman suck on the tight bud, tongue circling, making it go harder. “Wait...hold…hold on...”

“What?” Frankie let go, mouth red from all the making out, breath shallow.

“No, it's...it's so good, but...I really want to do this. Please…”

She pushed off the sofa, dropping to her knees, right in front of Frankie’s clogs, spreading them apart as she reached up, hands gripping onto ruffled denim.

“Don't hurt yourself,” Frankie warned. “Do you want a pillow? Here.”

Frankie handed her the pillow she used to take her cat naps, or “painting with her eyes closed” as she called it. Grace glowered a bit, not wanting to accept the help or acknowledge her limitations, but it really was a hard floor, and her knees were not in the best shape.

“Thank you,” she shoved it beneath them. “Can I please…”

She didn't have to ask twice. Frankie was already pulling the jeans down her legs, kicking off her shoes, allowing Grace to peel away her socks. Grace looked back up to her stomach, peeking out from beneath the green, long-sleeved undershirt Frankie wore. It puffed over the elastic of her underwear, soft and round, still relatively slim considering her lack of adherence to any diet. But Grace didn't mind that at all. It was the sweetest, most beautiful belly she'd ever seen as far as she was concerned. She traced her fingers over it, sending another shock through Frankie’s nervous system, making her jump a little as she giggled. Before Grace could think much more about it, she gripped on to the cotton, and Frankie lifted her hips, letting them be pulled away.

They'd done a lot of looking these past few days. Frankie had seen all of her, but Grace hadn’t yet gotten this far. She couldn't believe how gorgeous she was from this angle, how much hair Frankie had left, how full and lush her lips were. She wasn't surprised, honestly. Frankie wasn’t subtle by any stretch. Why should this part of her be any different? It was uncanny, really, how well it matched the rest of her, in all it's natural, well maintained but unapologetic beauty.

“Now how did you manage to get paint on your vagina?” Grace had to ask, shaking her head as she eyed the splotches of blue and purple stuck to her hair, wisping across her thigh.

“I don't know,” Frankie shrugged. “Oh wait...maybe I do. Oops.”

“It’s okay,” Grace laughed. “I can work around it.”

“Are you sure you're sure? It's a lot to take in.”

“It's incredible,” Grace swallowed, resting her hands on her knees. “You are so, so beautiful.”

Frankie’s smile glowed again at that, and she spread herself on instinct, sliding to the edge of the sofa, making it a little easier for both of them. Grace looked back up, locking eyes as she leaned forward, letting her tongue say more than she ever could about just how ready she was.

“Oh god,” Frankie breathed, eyes closing, head falling back. “Oh...oh god. Fuck…”

Grace took that as a signal to keep going, kissing her there, letting her tongue slip between her lips, over warm folds that were so smooth and tasted just like Frankie, only so much more of her. She glided down to the well of flesh and color, tasting everything, tickling gentle shapes across her knees and thighs as she looked and licked and sucked, finding her way to Frankie’s clit, which was anything but bashful.

“Jesus holy fuck…” Frankie continued to squirm, hips rolling forward. “Grace…”

“Good?”

“Yes, yes, good…” Frankie groaned, barely able to answer as she spread her legs a little more, tucking her feet behind Grace’s back.

Grace kept licking relentlessly, telling her jaw it could fuck right off, ignoring the pain, because nothing was going to stop her from making Frankie come in her mouth tonight. She reached up, using her fingers to spread her lips a little further, giving her better access, all the while keeping her eyes on Frankie’s face, the way her mouth hung open and her eyelids fluttered, the words coming out of her making less and less sense.

“Christ on wheels…” she whined. “Oh god…yes! Yes, dear holy fuck…”

Grace’s own core clenched, egged on by the obscenities. She narrowed the tip of her tongue, focusing it right where it was needed, moving her whole head, using everything she could to increase the friction, desperate to get her off before she lost steam. Frankie’s fingernails dug into her shoulders, and Grace was sure they were leaving marks, but that didn't matter. She could feel Frankie’s clit getting hotter, harder, her breath and movements becoming even more unhinged by the second.

“Yeessss!” she breathed. “Don't stop! Please don't stop…”

Grace pressed her tongue just a little deeper, keeping the pace, until Frankie's legs were shaking beneath her hands, chest rising up off the sofa. Her face was so red, and Grace worried for a moment that this was too much, until Frankie let out one more, almost silent breath, coming hard and fast, falling back against the sofa. Her legs went limp, and she rested her hands on her stomach.

Grace slowly let go, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, licking her lips, but mostly, fixing her gaze on just how perfect Frankie looked with her hair stuck to her forehead, and, surprisingly, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh no,” Grace swallowed, climbing up to her again. She curled next to her, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Frankie laughed through her tears, turning her head to the side, burying her hand in Grace’s hair. “It was perfect. You amaze me, Grace Hanson. I love you...so very much.”

Grace kissed her softly, wiping at Frankie’s tears, pulling back a little as she let one, tiny drop pool against her fingertip. Frankie looked at her like she was the world, and all she wanted was to kiss her and hold her until they could barely breathe.

Frankie grabbed at her shoulders, pulling Grace on top of her again, hands and lips everywhere, until they found the elastic of Grace’s yoga pants.

“Take these off…”

“Okay,” Grace quickly agreed, standing for a moment, ripping them off, along with her expensive lace panties, before mounting Frankie again. She leaned forward, rolling their foreheads together, breath hitching, coming out in tiny breaths as Frankie squeezed her ass, gripping it so firmly, raking perfectly sharp nails against the skin, until she brought one hand back to the front, gliding it down through eager lips.

“Jesus, you're wet,” Frankie gaped. “Did you prepare for this ahead of time?”

“No,” Grace shook her head. “It's just...what you do to me. I guess I'm not completely dried up after all.”

“Well of course not,” Frankie boasted. “No one’s completely dried up. I mean, some people probably are, like old puss face, or you know, other people whose souls have already left their bodies, but not us.”

“Could you not bring up puss face right now?”

“Sorry,” Frankie shook it off.

“It's okay, I...I need you to…”

“I know what you need,” Frankie whispered, letting her hand slip deeper, until it was pressed against Grace’s glistening center. Grace grinded down a little, encouraging Frankie, until she was slipping a finger in, then another, still clearly in shock at how easy it was, how slick Grace had gotten just from the excitement of going down on her. But it was true, Grace had never been more turned on, and now Frankie was filling her up, and it felt like her entire body was full of her fingers, full of her love.

She rose up, then back down, riding Frankie’s hand as the last little bit of sun crept over the house and painted her skin with golden light, and she trembled, letting Frankie push inside as she bore back down against her fingers, careful not to go too hard. But Frankie’s mouth was moving over her breasts, licking between them, her other hand pressed firmly against her lower back, helping her stay in place. Grace picked up the speed, moving her body in time with Frankie’s, and it felt so good, the spots she was hitting aching pleasantly as they were stroked.

Still, it was hard to maintain the right position, and Frankie’s hand began to stick more than was comfortable.

“Actually...some lube might make things easier,” Grace finally admitted.

“Good call,” Frankie nodded. “Here…”

She kissed her lips as Grace slid off to the side, laying back against the leather, head resting on one of the arms as Frankie got up and went to the table in the center of the studio. Grace couldn't help but smirk at the sight of her, pantsless, hair a total mess as she returned with the jar, opening it quickly, taking what she needed, then returning to the couch. Grace opened her legs, and Frankie barely fit one knee between them, the other tucked against the back of the sofa, but it was just enough to be able to bring her hand back where she needed it. Grace reached up, pulling her in for another long, grateful kiss, holding her face as Frankie pressed back inside and began to fuck her so delicately at first. But then, she went deeper, harder, until Grace’s eyes closed, and her kissing became erratic.

“Oooh…ooh god,” she could barely speak. “Fra…”

“Yeah?” Frankie continued to pump.

“Yes...oh... _god_ it's…”

“You feel so good,” Frankie kissed her. “So warm and wet and tight…”

“Fuck,” Grace held on, arms firmly wrapped around her neck. “Fuck me...oh...oh god...fuck me…”

“I don't think I can go any faster,” Frankie shook her head. “Is this okay?”

“Yes...keep...keep going…”

Frankie put her whole shoulder into it, giving her all she could. Grace looked down between them, mind going numb at the sound of Frankie’s hand slapping against her flesh, but the feeling, the feeling was like her insides were bellowing, screaming for more, even more, as her hips thrusted against each stroke of Frankie’s fingers. Finally, she felt her walls tighten, the pressure building, tickling through to the outside, where Frankie’s thumb was now pressed against her clit, just barely strumming.

Grace held onto Frankie’s shoulders, head thrashing, teeth digging in softly, as she let out a moan that seemed to emanate right from the source, and her whole body tensed, seizing up with so much pleasure. It was like every color and sensation around her had been summoned, helping her ride through the waves of her orgasm, until her body gave out, and her head fell back against leather.

“Good lord,” she breathed sharply, hands covering her eyes, head still rocking back and forth as Frankie pulled her fingers out, crawling up to her face.

“You okay?” she kissed her, holding her securely.

“God yes,” Grace swallowed. “Wow.”

“Yeah, 'wow,'” Frankie laughed. “Boy, you really know how to take it. I am shook.”

“ _You_?” Grace opened her eyes, lifting her weakened arms, fingers hovering over Frankie’s lips and cheeks. “I can't believe…”

“What?”

“I don't know...what I was expecting. But this...this was so much more than that.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Grace shook her head again, still short of breath. “I just...had no  _idea_ how good it could be.”

“You mean me?” Frankie asked. “Or being with a woman?”

“Both. I mean with you, yes, but just...everything. It's so much better than I ever could have dreamed.”

“Well good,” Frankie smiled. “Although that was quite the workout, gotta say. Not that I won't do it again. I'll do it a hundred times over, but I might need a little assistance every now and then.”

“Sorry,” Grace’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay? Is your arm…”

“It's alright. I think I'll recover. It was worth it. You're worth any amount of carpal tunnel I might end up with, truly.”

“That's no good,” Grace chuckled. “Here we are trying to prevent women from hurting themselves and we're the prime suspects.”

“Well, leaving you hanging without getting you off would have been the real crime, in my book,” Frankie laughed even harder, and she looked so happy, Grace knew it was really okay.

“Look at us,” Grace sighed, pulling her to her chest, basking in the warmth of Frankie’s body on top of hers. “We're quite the spectacle.”

“Good thing everyone's so busy with their own shit lately,” Frankie mused. “Last thing we need is someone walking in on us.”

“Oh god,” Grace brought her hand to her mouth. “We really didn't give a shit about anything, did we? I hope the neighbors…”

“Ah, screw the neighbors,” Frankie waved her off. “This neighborhood could use some livening up.”

Grace couldn't disagree with that. Still, the thought of anyone hearing them, let alone seeing something, made her anxiety flood back just a little, though not enough to regret what they'd done. Nothing could do that.

“You know...speaking of people knowing things,” Grace swallowed. “Vice keeps calling me. At least once a day, not to mention the emails. I don't know what to tell them.”

“I thought we settled that,” Frankie’s head popped up. “I'm okay with passing. I know other opportunities for marketing will come along. Besides, we don't really need it.”

“Yeah, but that's not how you really feel,” Grace told her. “I know you. I don't want to let you down.”

“You're not,” Frankie assured. “It was wrong of me to make you feel like we had to come out on camera before you were ready to come out anywhere else. I have patience, Grace. I can wait as long as you need me to.”

“Maybe there's a way to compromise,” Grace suggested. “We give them something...just not everything. We don't have to get too personal.”

“Hmm,” Frankie considered. “I don't know.”

“Well, they’re gonna stop calling soon. We need to make a decision. Like you said...maybe in a few months, when it airs, I’ll feel more comfortable with people knowing. At least that we're together. Anything else, well...people don't need a whole play-by-play. We're selling vibrators. That should give them a pretty good idea.”

“Are you sure?” Frankie asked. “I don't want you rushing into anything you aren't ready for.”

“We’ll see,” Grace exhaled. “Maybe if I see Rebecca twice a week. Or we could start small, try telling at least one other person first.”

“I say we wait until after Bud’s wedding,” Frankie recommended. “I don't want to take away from he and Allison’s big moment. They deserve that.”

“Okay,” Grace nodded. “After that then. We’ll start telling people.”

“That’s next week,” Frankie reminded. “You really think you’ll be ready by then?”

“I hope so,” Grace sighed. “And if not...well, I don't mind being your secret lover a little while longer. Do you?”

“Not really,” Frankie smirked, snuggling closer. “It is kind of fun.”

“You're fun,” Grace kissed her forehead. “You ready for that pizza now?”

“Oh you bet,” she sat up quickly. “Rudy better bump us to the top of the list. I'm starving.”

“I'm sure he will,” Grace laughed. “Let's get our clothes back on first.”

She watched Frankie as they dressed, her own stomach beginning to rumble, though she couldn't help but feel completely satisfied. Frankie held the door open for her, and she kissed her again, holding her hand as they made their way back to the house.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and for all your lovely comments. Hope you enjoy (:

Frankie refused to get out of bed until she had no other choice. The sun had only risen halfway over the duvet so far; the rest of it, her side, was still in shadow, creating the perfect excuse for her lack of movement. Grace didn't seem to mind anyway. She’d left her there in her cocoon, running off somewhere after their pre-breakfast activities. Frankie didn't ask questions. Instead, she pretended to fall back asleep after coming for the third time that weekend, until eventually pretending became the real thing.

But now, Grace had been gone too long. Frankie missed her, and she was curious about what she was up to, but knew better than to shout for her down the stairs. Grace hated that more than anything, but Frankie still wasn't ready to give up the warm covers or the smell of Grace’s shampoo engulfing her in their sheets. This was the nicest bedroom she’d ever slept in, and now that she was taking up permanent residence, she enjoyed these moments when she could appreciate just how lovely it was, with its fresh hydrangeas and soothing ocean color scheme. She was in no hurry to be anywhere else. Besides, they had plenty of time to get ready.

“Coffee for the mother of the groom,” Grace finally reappeared, carefully balancing two mugs in her hands as she sank into her side of the mattress.

“You're spoiling me,” Frankie grinned from beneath the blankets. “Better pace yourself. I'll be fully rotten by the time you're finished.”

She attempted to steal her share of sweet nectar from the java gods, but Grace swatted her hand away.

“Only if you sit up first,” she narrowed her eyes.

“That's fair I guess,” Frankie sighed, throwing back the covers, adjusting her body until she was propped against the pillows, and Grace handed over the cup. “Thank you. You really didn't have to...”

“I know I didn't,” Grace smiled, taking a sip from her own mug before setting it on the nightstand, curling snugly against Frankie’s side. “I wanted to.”

“Mmm, you're a keeper,” Frankie closed her eyes, leaning into Grace’s petite frame. “Do we really have to get out of bed so soon?”

“Soon?” Grace balked. “It's almost nine-thirty. I have a hair appointment in a hour, and you promised Allison you'd be there to greet the minister, or love guru, or whatever the hell she calls herself.”

“I believe it's high priestess,” Frankie corrected. “And you're right. We do have to get a move on, I know it. I just like our mornings. Whenever they’re cut short, I feel cheated.”

“Well, hopefully I made up for it earlier,” Grace tickled her nails over Frankie’s stomach.

“You did,” Frankie blushed. “I can't think of a better way to wake up.”

“You know I never thought I'd like eating pussy,” Grace mused. “But I think I could do it every day.”

“I’m really starting to hate that word,” Frankie shook her head. “Thanks for nothing, Trump. But I'm glad you still like it.”

“What word would you prefer?”

“Vagina. I guess I'm old school that way.”

“Yeah, that's about the only way,” Grace rolled her eyes. “How about you forget the words and just focus on me telling you how much I like going down on you?”

“I can do that,” Frankie beamed. “I like going down on you too. You taste amazing.”

“Do I really?”

“God yes,” Frankie rejoiced. “Not that I have much to compare it to, but damn do I enjoy it. It’s way better than cock, I can tell you that much.”

“Agreed,” Grace laughed. “And easier. Who wants to give a blow job at our age? If I hadn't fell for you, I swear I would have become a lesbian in my seventies anyway out of sheer laziness.”

Frankie almost spit out her coffee at that. She snorted, wiping her mouth as her eyes went wide.

“I can't believe you said the ‘L Word.’”

“What? Lesbian?”

“Yes,” Frankie nodded. “We should watch that show by the way, if that's how you’re choosing to identify. It's an education.”

“I saw some of it back when it aired,” Grace admitted. “Didn't care for it. Too much drama.”

“Are you though?”

“Am I what?” Grace dabbed at the edges of her mug with a napkin.

“A liberated lady lover?” Frankie specified.

“I don't know what I am,” she sighed. “Other than crazy about you. That's all I do know.”

“That's all that matters,” Frankie kissed the top of her head, holding her close.

“We have to get ready for this wedding,” Grace pulled away, quick to change the subject. “Do you want to shower first, or should I?”

“How about together?” Frankie wriggled her eyebrows.

“We definitely don't have time for that,” Grace glared. “I'll go first. You finish your coffee. Just be ready to jump in by the time I finish.”

She kissed Frankie’s cheek, hopping out of bed before retreating into the ensuite.

“Can't promise I won't peek!” Frankie shouted, smiling giddily into her coffee as she listened to the water turn on, imagining what Grace’s face must have looked like, along with the rest of her.

* * *

After eight hours of unbridled madness, the wedding finally went off without a hitch. Everyone made it to the venue on time, including Frankie, who had taken a detour to Del Taco along the way. She'd been to enough weddings to know how lousy the food could be, and while she trusted Bud and Allison’s taste, she couldn't be held responsible for her attitude if she had to wait another couple hours for a proper meal. Grace agreed to show up separately since Frankie was tasked with greeting the officiant and helping to wrangle any last minute vendors if they couldn't find the place.

“Alright, Bergstein Family photo time,” Bud announced, corralling his parents. “Can someone get my brother away from the cake, please? Thank you!”

“Congratulations, honey,” Frankie hugged him. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

“Not too traditional for you?” Allison asked.

“No, not at all,” Frankie told her, admiring her flower crown. “Rabbi Moonbeam Spiritwalker kept it real. I'm just so happy for both of you. And this little one,” she laid her hands on Allison’s stomach, “Whenever he or she or they arrive.”

“Can I get you all to move a little closer to the chuppah?” the photographer directed.

She snapped about a dozen shots, rearranging people as needed. The flash nearly blinded Frankie, but she could still see Grace lingering near the last row of chairs, barking orders at the La Jolla Community Center staff as they transitioned the room from ceremony to reception. She looked more than a little anxious, but Frankie had told her to wait there until they were finished, so she couldn't blame Grace for finding a project to manage.

“Now let's get Sol and Robert in with the newlyweds,” the photographer checked her list, making sure she had it all covered.

Frankie watched them together, the idea of Robert as stepfather to her children sinking in more than it ever had. The Hansons always felt like family. Family you tolerated more than enjoyed, of course, until everything changed. Now, they really were family, in more ways than one.

It pained Frankie not to have Grace up there with her, but it wasn't time for that yet. Instead, she was pulled in next to Sol, each set of parents taking their turn, including Allison’s folks, who Frankie decided were perfectly well-meaning psychopaths. She could handle a lot of quirks. She was the queen of quirks in fact, dubbed so by her high school yearbook staff. But the line had to be drawn somewhere, and for Frankie it was Allison’s parents and their matching Wisconsin cheese-colored suits and wool socks.

Once the photographer was finished, Frankie tried to find Grace, but she was nowhere in sight. The hall was abuzz with caterers filing in and guests sipping cocktails. She tried to see through to the bar on the other side of the room, figuring Grace would most likely retreat to her natural habitat.

“Mom, can you look over my speech and tell me if it's the right amount of snark versus sap?” Coyote asked. “I don't want to sound like an asshole.”

“Sure, honey,” she took it from him, forcing herself to concentrate, trying not to worry.

* * *

“Fun party,” Robert joined Grace in a corner near the champagne tower.

“It's still early,” Grace sipped the martini she’d scored. “We’ll see how much fun it is after a few more of these.” 

“Bud and Allison seem happy.”

“I think they are,”’she smiled softly. “It's nice, isn't it?”

He nodded, and Grace thought about her own girls, hoping they'd find themselves in fulfilling relationships sooner or later.

“When do you and Sol head out on your big gay adventure?”

“A week from Thursday,” he laughed. “So long as Sol doesn't try to change our tickets once more to avoid weather patterns he’s predicted using whatever app he’s relying on these days. He's never been a good flyer.”

“You must love that,” Grace smirked.

“I'm getting used to it,” he conceded. “Frankie your date for tonight?”

Grace almost snapped her own neck she looked at him so sharply. She recovered quickly though, peering down into her drink, stabbing at the olive floating near the bottom of her glass, before fixing her face.

“Yes,” she cleared her throat. “Per usual. If I can pull her away from Allison’s crew at some point. I think they're trying to adopt her into their coven.”

“They could still be taking photos,” he rolled his eyes. “Just be thankful you got out of that one.”

“Right,” Grace breathed, pursing her lips, taking another sip of vodka. “Totally thankful.”

“Well, enjoy your evening,” he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You look stunning, as always.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, before he went on his way.

She caught a glimpse of Frankie being swarmed by another gaggle of cousins, deciding they could have her for the time being. She downed the rest of her drink and headed back to the bar.

* * *

“You nervous?” Mallory found Coyote by the petit fours, trying to steal another five or six before the caterers caught him again.

“Wouldn't you be?” he spoke with his mouth full. “I'm supposed to get up in front of all these people and toast my brother, the brilliant lawyer, and I can't even touch the drink I'm holding after I do it.”

“The bartender has sparkling Martinelli's,” she soothed. “We’ll get you a glass of that.”

“Oh good, so I can hear everyone gasp as they wonder if I'm throwing away my sobriety? I don't know…”

“Coyote, stop caring so much about what everyone else thinks,” she told him. “You're strong, and brave, and you worked for two whole weeks on that speech. It's really sweet. Bud is lucky to have you as his best man. He’s going to love it. That's all that matters.”

“Maybe,” he stole a fistful of meltaway mints, shoving them in his pocket. “If I had you standing up there with me, I'd feel a whole lot better.”

“Sorry,” she frowned. “But I'll be watching with pride over at table eleven with my sister and the weirdos they stuck us with.”

“Maybe we can sneak away later,” he lowered his voice again. “Take advantage of the kids being with a sitter for the evening.”

“Don't be gross,” she hit him, but her eyes gave away how tempting the offer was. “I'm going back to rescue Brianna. Don't even think about filling your other pocket with M&Ms. I see you. I’m not washing your jacket.”

He put his hands up innocently, grinning as he watched her back away in that pretty pink dress, before disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

“Come on kids, Bergstein Family hug!” Sol shouted tensely.

Frankie almost spilled her ginger ale all over herself as her ex-husband looped his arm around her neck, pulling her in on one side, squeezing both boys with the other.

“Dad...” Bud squeaked. “Can't...breathe…”

“What is this, an emergency huddle?” Frankie adjusted her stance, moving in closer.

“Yes,” Sol admitted. “I need someone to save me from Cousin Bonnie. She's started talking about her cat’s OCD again, and I’m running out of polite and appropriate banter. Please? Help!”

“I got you covered, dad,” Coyote offered. “I speak fluent Bonnie.”

“Oh thank god,” he sighed, letting them all go.

“You could warn me next time you decide to go in for the choke hold,” Frankie shook it off, fixing her sapphire and turquoise necklace.

“Sorry,” he winced. “Desperate times. I thought you'd understand.”

“I do,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Hang in there.”

Once Coyote led Sol back towards the carving station, Frankie was left to scan the room, hoping no one would notice and pull her into another obnoxious conversation about water purification. Finally, she laid eyes on Grace. She made a beeline to her before she could slip away again.

* * *

“You're avoiding me,” Frankie sidled up next to her, standing so their arms were just barely touching.

“No I'm not,” Grace denied, stepping at least two inches away. “You were busy with your family.”

“ _You're my family, too_ ,” Frankie whispered earnestly, slipping her arm through Grace’s. “Come on. You can't evade me all night. People know you and I are inseparable. You’re making it weird by acting weird.”

“Well, I…” Grace flustered, eyes threatening to close at the feeling of Frankie’s body so close. She felt like everyone was watching them, but deep down she knew that wasn't true. “I just...I don't know what you want me to do. I _hate_ feeling like this, like I can’t be myself, _be with you_...in the way I wish I could be. But that's not possible. Not here. Not yet.”

“But that doesn't mean we can't still have a good time,” Frankie argued. “Please? How about this: I'll match every martini you drink with a whiskey sour. How does that sound?”

“I don't think so,” Grace gaped. “You're not supposed to drink like that, and you know it.”

“Hey. We're not doing that anymore, remember? I told you. When it's my time, it's my time.”

“Frankie…”

“I can only handle so many restrictions,” she went on. “I need to live my life like I can do whatever I want, and right now I want to get drunk and naughty on the dance floor with my girlfriend. Is that too much to ask?”

“Shhhh,” Grace turned her back to the rest of the room, focusing on Frankie, which made it much harder to say no. “Fine. I'll drink with you.”

“Oh goodie!” Frankie clapped her hands together, jumping a little. “And then you’ll dance with me?”

“I…” Grace started, sighing heavily. “I would really like that, but...I don't know. What will people think?”

“Nothing,” Frankie insisted. “Since when is it exclusively gay for two women to dance up on each other at a party? Chicks in their twenties do it all the time.”

“Yeah,” Grace scoffed. “And we are not them.”

“No, we’re better,” Frankie glared. “If anyone asks, which they won't, I’ll tell them I'm protecting you from Cousin Donald. He divorced his kidney donor recently, and I can tell he wants to pick you up and swing you around like a rag doll.”

“Ew, no,” Grace glanced behind them, trying not to panic.

“Don't look,” Frankie warned, pulling her closer, whispering. “Just dance with me, and it’ll be fine. I know you want to. I've seen you work those hips. They may be sore, but I'll never forget the way you got down on that bar that night. Fuck, you were so hot. It's no wonder everyone wants a piece of you. That dress is enough to make me soak my pantyhose. The least you can do is dance with me. That's all I’m asking.”

Grace could feel the heat scalding her cheeks, Frankie’s words had her so wound up. She had worn this dress just for her: black velvet with a low cut back and even lower neckline, extra tight in all the right places. Frankie looked breathtaking in hers too, royal blue, perfectly paired with her necklace and her eyes. Grace helped pick it out earlier that week, wanting to make sure their outfits complimented each other. But what good was that if she avoided her all night? If there was no record of them ever being there together? Even if it was under the guise of tragically single ex-wives turned bffs, she figured something was better than nothing.

“Fine,” Grace rolled her eyes, smirking ever so subtly. “Get me another martini first. And make sure Donald knows to stay at least thirty feet away from me at all times.

“Deal,” Frankie laughed, squeezing her shoulder before heading to the bar.

* * *

An hour or so passed, but for Brianna it felt like weeks. She sat at table eleven, picking at her slice of cake, judging everyone around her, which she'd been trying not to do lately but figured this was a reasonable exception. Allison’s family looked like the audience from _Let’s Make a Deal_ , and as entertaining as that was, Brianna felt too bored and sober to make the best of it.

“Mal...Mal!” she grabbed her sister’s arm before she could get all the way out of her seat. “Please don't leave again.”

“I have to pee!” Mallory grit her teeth.

“Can't you hold it?!” Brianna whispered. “If you abandon me now I may have to take drastic measures. I will fake appendicitis and drive myself to the hospital. Anything to avoid another game of iSpy with Mrs. Parsons and her gluten intolerant son.”

“Okay, fine,” Mallory gave in.

“Hey, siblings,” Bud approached the table. “Allison and I are making the rounds to say thank you for being here. Hope the bartenders are treating you well. And that pulled pork mini taco, am I right?”

“Congratulations,” Brianna smiled a little too widely. “You did it.”

“Really, no complaints?” he looked at her skeptically. “No witty takedown of the decorations or lack of birdseed to throw because the birds shouldn't have to suffer a food shortage just to shower our nuptials with good luck?”

“You get  _one_ night,” she granted. “Then tomorrow, this is all fair game.”

“Great,” he nodded. “Can't wait for that.”

“Babe, I think someone hijacked our playlist,” Allison shuffled over in her dress. “The DJ said someone promised him an extra fifty bucks if he changed it up.”

Bud straightened his shoulders, and they all seemed to catch on to the shift in the room at that exact moment, the tunes changing from adult contemporary to a decidedly more mature, if not downright raunchy, hip hop medley.

“Yup,” he chewed his lip. “Definitely not our jams.”

“That's rude,” Mallory scoffed. “Who would do that?”

Bud slowly spun around, directing their attention to the dancefloor.

“My mom,” he sighed.

Allison gasped. Brianna slapped her sister’s shoulder so hard she spit out half her drink.

There, nestled among friends and distant relatives, was Frankie Bergstein, shaking it in ways that made Mallory’s nose scrunch up and Brianna cackle at the ceiling. Frankie’s moves weren’t awful, but they were definitely a sight to behold, sort of like the live show at Ripley’s Believe it Or Not. But the best part? Their mother, Grace “Leave Room for the Lord” Hanson, was leaving no room at all between herself and anyone who threw a pelvic thrust or shimmy in her direction, least of all Frankie. Grace swiveled her hips in a circular motion Brianna wasn’t even sure was safe at her age, and Frankie dipped behind her, bending her knees impressively, doing what she could only imagine was the late-in-life version of a twerk, all to the tune of Ludacris’s “My Chick Bad.”

“What are you guys staring at?” Coyote joined them, searching the crowd until it was clear. “Whoa. Looks like they're having fun.”

“I need another drink,” Mallory announced.

“No, Mal!” Brianna tried to stop her, but she was too late.

She turned back to Bud, who had also escaped, along with his bride and best man. Slowly, she made eye contact with the rest of her neighbors at table eleven, churning out the kindest expression she could muster.

“iSpy with my little eye something no child should ever have to see,” she said. “Go.”

* * *

Grace’s vision started to blur. She didn't have her glasses, so she held on to anyone who looked like they weren't Cousin Donald for support. This group of strangers was pretty darn friendly once you got past the funny smell, but they could dance, and she was happy to show them she had her own set of skills to throw into the mix. The lights flashed green and blue above their heads, and she twirled, shifting from one leg to the other, trying to keep up while staying vertical. She looked around for Frankie, pouting until she spotted her returning from the bar with another set of drinks.

“Hey,” Grace took the martini in a plastic cup, throwing her other arm around Frankie’s neck. “Can you teach me how to Dougie?”

“No,” Frankie laughed. “But all my bitches love me.”

“What?” Grace stumbled, catching herself. “They'd better not.”

“No, no, I'm kidding,” Frankie swayed, moving closer. “Only one bitch does. The baddest bitch of all.”

“Shut up,” Grace giggled, dancing around her. “You call me corny? You’re the worst. And the best.”

“Hey,” Frankie grabbed Grace’s elbow, forcing her to stand still for half a second, whispering in her ear. “Is it corny to want to find someplace to get fresh with you right now? I say we blow this popsicle stand and start our own party.”

“We can't leave yet. This is your son’s wedding,” Grace shook her head. “But if you mean finding a back room for you to fuck me in, I could maybe get down with that.”

“Seriously?” Frankie gaped. “Just how many drinks have you had, girly? That’s the wildest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I’m not kidding,” Grace hiccuped, letting her hand rest a little too long on the small of Frankie's back. “Take me someplace.”

“Are you sure?” Frankie narrowed her eyes. “I don't know…”

“Yes, I'm sure,” Grace nodded. “Don't be such a...that word you don't like.”

“Okay, Lindsay Lohan,” Frankie grinned. “I used to smoke in this storage closet on the other side of the building when the kids had their flute lessons. It’s locked from the inside, but I know how to jimmy the door from the outside.”

“A closet?” Grace frowned. “Sounds tiny.”

“Don't worry, it'll be big enough,” Frankie assured. “Besides, drunk and disorderly beggars can't be choosers.”

“Fine,” Grace smirked, pulling on Frankie’s necklace. “Take me to it.”

“Wow,” Frankie swallowed, downing another gulp of her whiskey sour. “I can’t believe it. Grace Hanson, sexual deviant.”

“Shhh! Let's go before someone notices,” she warned, dragging her towards the exit.

* * *

It took Frankie way too long to find the right door, much longer than she knew Grace had patience for right now, but eventually she got it.

“This isn't so bad,” Grace found the light switch, flipping it on before sauntering into the art supply room.

“Shhhh,” Frankie shut it back off. “We can't draw extra attention to ourselves. You're gonna have to feel around in the dark.”

“I can do that,” Grace giggled, crashing into a desk, clanging against a set of shelves that held too many types of yarn and paint and bric-a-brac. “What is this place, a Michael’s Craft Store?”

“Don't worry about it, just kiss me,” Frankie pulled her close, and Grace kissed her so sloppily, so needily, it made her head spin. “You are so bad…”

“Yeah I am,” Grace huffed. “You like my dress?”

“Yes I like your dress,” Frankie swallowed. “I already told you I…”

“Tell me again.”

“I love it,” Frankie ran her hands over the velvet, down Grace’s long back, until she was squeezing that tight ass she'd been eyeing all night like it was the first time she'd ever been able to cop a feel. “God do I love it…”

“I love yours, too,” Grace groped Frankie’s chest, lips traveling to her neck. “I don't like pretending to be straight...”

“I know,” Frankie exhaled, pushing Grace onto one of the desks. “Me either.”

“Hurry…”

“I'm hurrying,” Frankie told her. “Is there a zipper on this thing or…”

“Yes, right here. Just get…”

“Oh my GOD!”

Their reaction time must have really been stunted, considering the seconds between the door swinging open and Mallory screaming hadn't fazed them. Frankie jumped back instantly at the sound of her shriek, letting go of Grace, who let out a yelp so loud, it was a good thing the speakers in the other room were big enough to drown out the sound.

“Mal…” Grace wiped frantically at her smudged lipstick, fixing her hair. “What…”

“What the fuck, mom!?” Mallory let go of Coyote’s hand, finding the light switch, making everyone squint when she hit it. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing!?” Grace defended. “What are _you_ doing!?”

“Why were your hands on my mom’s boobs?” Coyote was stunned.

“Because I wanted them there,” Frankie sighed. “Clearly.”

“Frankie…” Grace squeaked.

“Mom, seriously?” Mallory crossed her arms. “Now you’re gay too?”

“No!” Grace began to crumble. “I mean...I'm not sure yet. Maybe. I haven't decided.”

“Well, I am a pansexual, cisgender, free-thinking goddess of the flesh,” Frankie declared, hands on hips. “And I say we halt this third degree until we’re all in a better state of mind.”

“Uh uh, no way,” Mallory shook her head. “Mom, this is what _teenagers_ do! Are you crazy? Sneaking off to make out with your best friend at someone's wedding? That's insane!”

“Mallory…” Coyote tried to intervene.

“What am I supposed to tell my kids, huh?” she continued. “That no one in this family can keep it their pants anymore? That everyone has to...”

“You know what Mallory, enough!” Grace finally shouted. “That's not the first time you’ve come at me with that kind of bullshit, and I'm sick of it. You can tell your kids their grandparents are happy, that they aren't afraid to live full, healthy lives. That they're lucky enough to have found love this late in the game. I bet they’ll understand better than you. Meanwhile, what the hell are you doing sneaking out here with _him_?”

She eyed Coyote, who put up his hands again, but his face told everyone he was far from innocent.

“It's…” Mallory started. “It's not what you…”

“How did you know about this room?” Frankie asked.

“Flute lessons,” Coyote swallowed.

“Are _you_ crazy?” Grace continued to yell at her daughter. “You have a chance to start over, and you're gonna throw it all away on _Coyote_?”

“Excuse me,” Frankie balked. “Are you fucking kidding? Grace, that is unacceptable.”

“I'm...I didn't mean it, I…”

“Yes you did,” she cut her off. “Just because we're together doesn't mean you get to say shitty things about my kids, even when they do make stupid decisions. Coyote, this is dangerous. You know what happened the last time you…”

“It's not like that, mom,” he began to bang his head into the doorframe. “God…”

“I have to get out of here,” Frankie, ironically, was the first to panic. “It’s much too small...”

She pushed past the kids to get outside, heels sinking into the lawn, wishing she could walk faster. It would have made for a much more dramatic exit.

“Frankie,” Grace caught up with her quickly. She was so much more skilled. It wasn't fair. “Frankie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I was just...so angry. And embarrassed...”

“That's no excuse,” Frankie spun around. “You will not talk about my son like that again. I don't care if he’s a grown up.”

“I know. I know that, I'm sorry,” she grabbed her hand. “Really.”

“Say it to him, not me,” Frankie demanded. “Although you can say it to me too, honestly. I'm gonna need to hear it at least a few more times.”

“Coyote,” Grace turned around, taking off her shoes, holding them in her hand as she approached him. “I'm so sorry. You really are a sweet boy…”

“Man,” he corrected.

“I know. I know you are, and you're a good man too. I just...I don't want Mallory getting hurt.”

“Mom, it’s none of your business,” Mallory spoke again.

“Well neither is this!” Grace swallowed, looking back at Frankie. “This isn't how I wanted you to find out, but there it is! I'm in love with her, okay? Make fun of me all you want, but this is what makes me happy, and if he's what makes you happy, then so be it.”

“You're in love with her?” Mallory’s voice quivered, eyes tearing up.

“Yes,” Grace breathed, looking no less terrified.

“That's…” Mallory swallowed. “That's really sweet. How could anyone make fun of that?”

“What’s going on?” Bud found them all behind the building, walking towards them with his hands in his pockets. “I thought I could get some peace and instead I find a scene straight out of Honey Boo Boo.”

“Mom and Grace are gay,” Coyote blabbed.

“Coyote, Jesus!” Frankie shushed him. “Please. We made a mistake. Not the gay part, just thinking we could have a quickie and get away with it.”

“Christ, mom…”

“Stop...”

“Too much…”

“Whatever,” Grace rolled her eyes. “I'm sick of hiding. Let's go.”

“For the record, I already knew,” Bud told them. “I saw you guys on the porch a few weeks ago when I came to get my phone. That’s why I went around and rang the doorbell and pretended like nothing happened. It's my curse.”

“What?!” Frankie burst. “You knew this whole time? Does Allison…”

“Oh she knows too. We don't keep secrets. Turns out that's one of my biggest hangups, go figure. We talked to Dr. Wong about it and everything. It's all good.”

“Dr. Wong knows?!” Frankie’s eyes went wide.

“Come on,” Grace grabbed her hand. “Let's go home. I'm done humiliating myself.”

“Why is everyone freaking out?” Bud was the beacon of calm. “I'm happy for you two. And you two,” he eyed his brother and Mallory. “Don't think I don't know about that. I know everything. Everything’s fine.”

“Youguys all lef’ me behind, and it's not nice,” Brianna slurred, hanging onto the corner of the building, stumbling towards them. Her eyes went to Mallory and Coyote first, then to her mom and Frankie, who were still holding hands. Her mouth fell open, slack jawed.

“No,” she burped, backing away slowly, like if she did it carefully enough she could pretend none of this was real.

“I'm calling you guys an Uber,” Bud told his mother.

“Honey, I'm so sorry,” Frankie rubbed his shoulder. “This wasn't right.”

“Are you kidding?” he smiled. “These shenanigans will go down in Bergstein family history for sure. Everyone will remember Bud had the best wedding ever. I couldn't have asked for more.”

“I'm sorry too,” Mallory went to Grace. “I was just...shocked, I guess.”

“No worries,” Grace wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stay warm, shaking from the whole scenario. “I'm not sure I would have acted any differently had I been in your position.”

“Still. This was no way to…”

“That’s my fault, not yours,” Grace told her, turning to Coyote. “Make sure she gets home safe.”

“I will,” he nodded, looking back and forth between Grace and his mom. “You too.”

The car pulled up. Frankie helped Grace into the back seat, before turning around to say goodbye to the kids.

“Please don't say anything to your fathers,” she pleaded.

“Don't worry,” Bud assured. “I think we owe you that much. Night, mom.”

“Love you,” she kissed his cheek.

Bud gave her another squeeze before putting her in the car and sending them on their way.

* * *

“Grace, I'm sorry,” Frankie sat far away and perfectly still.

“For what?” Grace groaned, leaning against the opposite window. “You didn't do anything.”

“For getting you outed,” Frankie swallowed. “In the worst way imaginable.”

“Stop,” Grace rolled her eyes. “It's not your fault. I was the one who acted inappropriately. I'm the one who asked you to…”

“Yes, but I should have said no.”

“Well where’s the fun in that?” Grace laughed, only a little sadly. “You know...honestly, I think maybe part of me wanted to get caught. It's a relief in a way. At least that part’s over. There’s still...so much more, I know it, but I couldn't stand being there with you...and not really being with you. I had to do something.”

Frankie’s eyes caught the light from other cars whizzing by. She leaned towards the center of the backseat, putting out her hand, waiting for Grace to take it.

Grace looked down, slowly lacing their fingers together, glancing back and forth between the driver and their hands, until she finally settled in, resting her head on Frankie’s shoulder.

“It’ll get easier,” Frankie told her. “I promise.”

“Really?” Grace breathed. “Because I'm not so sure.”

“Yes,” Frankie blinked. “It will. I know it will. We can do this. Look, I'm proud of you, as silly as that may sound, with the exception of your snipe at Coyote. That was an intense situation, and you handled it like a champ. You didn't run away. You faced it, head on, and now the kids know, and it's okay. That took balls. Or ovaries or whatever.”

“Well,” Grace mused. “I did learn from the best.”

“Goddamnit, Grace Hanson,” Frankie shook her head. “I love you so much. You really are my ride or die bitch, you know that? You're my trap queen."  
  
“No, I'm not,” Grace laughed, hitting Frankie’s knee. “Don't say say that. I don't even know what that is, but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say it.”

“You are though,” Frankie smiled. “I'd do anything for you.”

“Would you order me a pizza from Rudy’s before we get home please?” Grace snuggled closer.

“Pizza again? This late at night?” Frankie balked. “Who even are you?”

Grace didn't say another word. She just kept smiling, holding Frankie, knowing that it really would get easier, because somehow, miraculously, it already already had.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few chapters left! Some important issues that have been building are explored here.
> 
> As always, if you like, let me know what you think! Enjoy (:

Grace stared out the window above the sink as she finished the dishes, letting the warm water run over her tired hands, distracted by every errant thought rattling her brain. Life had in fact gotten easier since Bud’s wedding, in some ways. Mallory called the very next day, and they talked for a long time, longer than she could ever remember talking to either of her daughters on the phone. She had a few questions, some Grace could answer, some she still couldn't, but it was a start. Bud and Allison, meanwhile, stopped by on the way out of town for their honeymoon/babymoon, and it turned into a delightful exchange of blessings in both directions. Everyone seemed to be handling it like it was no big deal, which wasn't entirely surprising given their family history. 

But there was still an ache in Grace’s heart, a gnawing feeling that she hadn't done this right, like so many other things in her life. It wasn't like her to lose control of something so important, something she'd been avoiding, built up like another tree to climb, another fear to conquer. But in the end, she had let go, and part of her knew it was because Frankie, with the aid of Dr. Judy no doubt, helped her realize how good it felt when she wasn't in control of everything. Life could just happen, and that could be okay sometimes, so long as the driving force behind it was love. And that, Grace could affirm, was the one thing in all of this that she was absolutely sure of.

“Knock knock,” Brianna opened the back door, slipping inside.

“Hi there,” Grace looked up, a bit startled. She shut off the water immediately, drying her hands on a towel. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I told Frankie I would stop by,” Brianna shared. “Sorry, I guess I thought she would have...”

“No, it's okay,” Grace told her quickly, leaning against the counter. She tried to act casual, but knew she was failing. Brianna could smell awkwardness in seconds, like a shark with blood in the water. “That looks good. Want me to put it in the fridge?”

“Thanks,” Brianna handed over the chocolate cake she'd made. “I can't stay, but I thought this might make up for missing another birthday dinner.”

“She’ll love it,” Grace smiled. “Thank you.”

She stored it away, shutting the door to the fridge before pacing through the kitchen, staring at her own feet, trying to think of what she could say to break through this unbearable tension.

“Have you talked with your sister yet?” she finally asked.

“A little,” Brianna nodded, resting her hands on the counter. “You know, mom...honestly, in retrospect, it's not like we didn't already know. Sort of. I mean, there were signs. Not that I actually ever thought you'd…”

“That makes two of us,” Grace swallowed.

“But in a way, it makes sense. I just…”

“What?” Grace was ready for anything.

“I’m just...I’m a little hurt you didn’t feel like you could tell me,” Brianna looked away. “That's all.”

“I didn’t feel like I could tell anyone,” Grace exhaled, crossing her arms. “Really. That’s not how I would have chosen to come out to you kids, but I’d had a lot to drink and...”

“Great excuse,” Brianna smirked. “I know it well.”

“Seriously,” Grace sighed. “But...in the spirit of honesty, as much as I shudder thinking about the way it all went down...I was ready. I've been holding onto this for a very long time, longer than you may think. It's a part of me I never thought I'd share with anyone, let alone Frankie, let alone anyone else...and there are still plenty of people left to tell.”

“Like dad?”

“Yeah,” Grace laughed nervously. “Like him. But at least the band aid's been ripped off. And that feels good.”

“So then…” Brianna, tapped her nails against the island. “You’re happy?”

“I am,” Grace breathed, smiling through tears. “Really happy.”

“Good,” Brianna smiled back. “I'm happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Grace swallowed again. “That means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Brianna started to head out. “I’ve gotta see Frankie before I leave, but we’ll talk more soon, yeah?”

“You bet.”

Grace crossed the space between them, giving Brianna a hug they’d both desperately needed for weeks. She took a deep breath as Brianna hugged her back, embracing this next, small step, knowing it would indeed get easier with every step to come.

* * *

The door to the studio was already open. Brianna let herself inside, amazed by all the new material Frankie had produced since her art big show.

“Pretty soon they'll have to open a new wing for you at MoMA.”

“I already tried that,” Frankie appeared from behind her easel. “Turns out you have to be a donor, not just the next female Picasso. Go figure. All museums have been taken over by capitalist scum anyway.”

“Clearly,” Brianna shook her head, handing Frankie a card. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, you didn't have to do that,” she held it to her chest. “But I'm glad you did. Thank you.”

“I left some goodies for you in the kitchen,” Brianna continued. “With mom.”

“You’re not staying for dinner then?” Frankie frowned. “She’s trying her hand at massaman curry. Don't you want to be a guinea pig with me?”

“I can't, unfortunately,” Brianna winced. “But massaman’s your favorite. I'm sure she won't fuck it up too much.”

“You’d be surprised,” Frankie sighed, planting herself on a stool. “She thinks she's the better cook in this house, but it's mostly because she follows a recipe to a tee. There’s no room for zhooshing, which in my opinion is what makes a dish really sing. But I'm working on her.”

“I bet you are,” Brianna swallowed, unable to resist the mind-numbing innuendo, setting her purse on the table. “You know, I was sort of worried, when I found out about you guys. I wasn't sure if...I mean, things between you and me…I didn't know if they'd stay the same.”

“Of course they will,” Frankie rubbed her arm reassuringly. “Grace is still Grace. She still does things that drive me batshit, and likewise in all fairness.”

“Yeah, but...you’re gonna have to be a whole lot nicer now, aren't you?”

“I've always been nice,” Frankie defended. “Just because you and I dish to each other doesn't mean I don't respect that woman with all my heart. Everyone needs a place to vent. I'm sure she does the same when it comes to me, right?”

“Occasionally,” Brianna admitted. “Though not nearly as much as you'd think.”

“Well, that's good I guess,” Frankie sighed. “Listen...I know this is all new, and confusing, but I appreciate you making an effort. Your mother’s not a different person just because we're in love. And I...well, I always…”

“What?” Brianna swallowed.

“I've always thought of you as the daughter I never had,” Frankie looked up slowly. “Don't tell Mallory.”

“I won't,” Brianna laughed, wiping away a tear.

“You can still talk to me,” Frankie nodded. “In fact, I hope we’ll talk even more.”

“Are you gonna be tempted to share dastardly details about you and my mother’s sex life?”

“Not if you don't want me to,” Frankie insisted. “I can keep it PG, if that'll make you more comfortable.”

“I’d say that's a safe bet.”

“Done,” Frankie promised. “Are you sure you're okay though? You’ve been a little off lately. I'm worried.”

“It's...nothing,” Brianna started to lie. “Just more of the same.”

“Same what?” Frankie asked. “Same guy?”

“You mean Barry?” Brianna leaned back against the table. She still had a hard time saying his name, and yet somehow, it felt good to hear it out loud. “Yeah. That bearded fucker got way under my skin. More than I ever should have allowed.”

“We don't always have a choice,” Frankie told her. “If I've learned anything, I’ve at least learned that.”

“He was the first person in a long time who actually wanted to be with me, who saw me as more than...more than I think I really even see in myself,” she played with her phone. “I used to think I had all this time. I never worried about my tendency to shy away from the ‘c word.’”

“Cancer?!” Frankie’s eyes went wide. “Is he sick?”

“No!” Brianna hit her arm. “Commitment. God, I think if he had cancer it would have made it easier to stay. Okay...maybe I am a monster. I don't even know what I'm…”

“Sweetie, you've got a lot of years ahead of you,” Frankie soothed. “You’ll find the right person, whether it's him or someone else. I mean, look at me for Christ’s sake. Who would have ever thought I’d spend the rest of my life with a woman who color coordinates her closets and thinks trimming the rug is somehow a fun pastime? But here I am.”

“Wow,” Brianna sniffed. “You guys are really in it for the long haul, huh?”

“Seems that way,” Frankie smirked, then turned more serious. “It is that way. She's my constant. Even before I knew...I knew. I just hoped she'd catch up sooner rather than later, and luckily she did. Yay me.”

“Yay you,” Brianna grinned. “Now I just need to find my constant. Know any hot single guys whose intentions are pure enough to make a good boyfriend but not so pure he doesn't know how to satisfy a woman of my exceptionally well-honed credentials?”

“I'll keep a look out.”

“Thanks. By the way, trimming the rug better not have been a euphemism.”

“It's wasn't!” Frankie exclaimed. “PG. I promised.”

“You know…” Brianna sighed. “I really am cool with all of this, I just...to think my sister and I are the product of two people who were never even supposed to be together...that's a hard pill to swallow.”

“Don't say that,” Frankie shook her head. “You're looking at it all wrong. Your parents loved each other, in their own way. They may not have wanted to be straight, but they did want you. They gave you everything they had. People are way more complicated than you give them credit for, Brianna. None of it means your childhood was a lie. It's just...now that you're a grown up, they get to focus on themselves again. You should be happy about that.”

“I am,” Brianna nodded. “It’s just...it's my own stuff. But I'll handle it.”

“I'm here, honey,” Frankie squeezed her arm. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Thanks,” Brianna swallowed, going in for the half-hug this time, which was rare, but Frankie had earned it. “I have to go. Board meeting, again.”

“Don't work too hard.”

“You know I will,” Brianna smirked. “Have fun tonight.”

“PG!” Frankie burst. “Or maybe PG-13. I don't know if it can be helped.”

“Goodnight, Frankie,” Brianna laughed softly, heading towards the door.

She paused on the way out, struck by the sight of one particular painting leaning against the window. Her eyes stung at the raw image of Grace Hanson, looking so distinguished, and yet so soft, softer than she’d ever seen her in all the years she'd grown up under the same roof. She was thankful Frankie’s brush stroke stopped at her shoulders, but even so, it was more than she ever thought she'd want to see. And she couldn't have been more moved, more thankful now, that she'd seen it.

* * *

“Good sweet baby Moses, I am full,” Frankie put her hands on her stomach, puffing it out beneath her shirt, making the fabric rise and fall like a parachute as she sprawled on the couch.

“Should I not lay on you then?” Grace asked hesitantly.

“No, please do,” Frankie lifted her arm, and Grace climbed in, curling up in the nook where she fit so perfectly. “I can will myself not to throw up if I have to.”

“Please,” Grace groaned. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Not that dinner wasn’t delicious, for the record,” Frankie went on. “I’m impressed. A little heavy on the sweet potato maybe, but otherwise…”

“Thanks, Gordon Ramsey,” Grace scoffed, shifting against her chest. “Any other critiques?”

“None for now,” Frankie teased. “We’ll see how the rest of the night goes.”

“You wanted me to play Battleship and watch Moana, and that’s what we’re doing,” Grace reminded. “What more do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Frankie mused playfully, running her hands through Grace’s hair. “This is pretty great. But the mood might strike me...”

“I thought you said you were full,” Grace laughed into her shoulder.

“I am, but I recover quickly, you know that. Plus, I haven’t had birthday sex in years. It would seem like a real missed opportunity.”

“There will be plenty of other opportunities,” Grace tickled Frankie’s arm. “Plenty of birthdays.”

“True, but you know how I like to seize the moment.”

“I do,” Grace kissed her cheek, stroking her arm expertly. “How's this for now?”

“Mmm, so good,” Frankie closed her eyes. “Always good.”

“Your skin is a miracle,” Grace whispered. “It's like you've been bathing in butter for fifty years.”

“Longer than that,” Frankie smirked.

Grace raised her head, staring at Frankie’s face, trying to figure out whether she was kidding or not. It was always hard to tell.

“If your eyes are closed how can you watch the movie?”

“It's just background noise,” Frankie waved her off. “I've already seen it.”

“What?” Grace sat up. “You're making me watch a cartoon you've already seen?”

“But it's so beautiful! I wanted you to see it. Besides, it's all about the goddess and renewal. Perfect birthday movie, if you ask me.”

“You're insufferable, you know that?”

“Thank you,” Frankie sunk deeper into the cushions.

Grace sighed heavily, rolling her eyes as she fell back onto Frankie’s chest. She buried her fingers beneath her warm waist, latching on a little tighter, forgiving her for everything.

“Did you talk to Brianna?” she asked.

“I did,” Frankie nodded. “Didn't you?”

“Not for long.”

“She’ll warm up to you again. Don't worry. She’s too wrapped up in her own shit right now to listen to anyone else’s shit. And it's some intense shit.”

“Yeah?” Grace swallowed.

“I think so, but she'll be okay. She just has to figure out what she really wants in life, that's all. You know, simple.”

“Tell me about it,” Grace exhaled. “At least she's dealing with it all now. She could have waited another forty years before she started questioning everything. Maybe by the time she's seventy she’ll have a whole new identity to contend with.”

“It's not...really _that_ new, is it?” Frankie rubbed her back slowly. “I mean, you and I are, but you...you've been waiting for the chance to blossom, haven't you?”

“If you want to call it that,” Grace breathed.

“I'll call it whatever you want me to call it,” Frankie assured. “I just want you to feel good.”

Grace bit her lip, lifting her head again as she looked up at Frankie, the way her thick, sweet-smelling hair created a nest around her neck, her sleepy eyes and generous smile always there to greet her, every day, every moment she needed her.

“Well...” Grace began, resting her hands on Frankie’s chest as she cleared her throat. “It's true. I might...might have been gay my whole life, but you're the one who made me come to terms with what any of those feelings were. You're the reason I feel brave enough to even...even consider saying...any of those things, because you're you. And if this is me...then that's fine, really. Because when I'm with you, I feel more like me than I ever have. And that does feel good.”

Frankie brought her hand to Grace’s cheek, holding it tenderly, blinking as she shook her head with pride.

“Honey, that's the best present I could ever ask for,” she smiled.

“So I should send back those chickens I ordered then?”

“Don't tease,” Frankie laughed as she pouted.

Grace shifted closer, kissing Frankie’s full, sweet lips, laying back on her chest as the movie played. Their breath synched up, and they fell deeper into each other’s arms, content to just lie there, knowing there would be more opportunities, more birthdays, more of all the things that made their lives so good.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second-to-last chapter, folks. Thanks for taking this ride with me. If you like it, please consider leaving a comment. It would really make my day. Thanks, and enjoy! (:

_Two months later._

“I don't know why I let you talk me into these things,” Frankie pulled at her sleeves, trudging through gravel as she followed Grace up the driveway. “We could be home hate watching The Bachelor right now. Or propagating our succulents.”

“Come on, Frankie,” Grace sighed. “We have to do this. We both agreed to it. Besides, wouldn't you rather come to their house and be able to escape then have them at our place and be held hostage until they decide to leave?”

“Hmm, your logic does compute, Mr. Spock,” Frankie spoke in a mix of unrecognizable accents, managing a tiny smile. “I just wish there was another way. I'm shaking like a leaf, and this shirt is so damn tight all of a sudden.”

“Why?” Grace stopped in her tracks, gently squeezing her hand. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I'm not,” Frankie insisted. “I just don't like being forced to process everything with them when we could be home doing other, more pleasurable things.”

“Look, they have nothing to be upset about,” Grace reminded. “They've been back from Japan for two whole weeks already. We have to tell them before someone else does. This should be easy.”

“Nothing's easy with Sol,” Frankie swallowed. “He’ll start questioning our entire history, bringing up memories I've decided are better set aflame in a bowl burning ceremony than aired out between us. I just wish we could skip this part and go back to living our separate but well respected lives again. Except for holidays. And I guess...dinner occasionally. And our regular phone check-ins every other week.”

“See?” Grace threw up her hands. “It's not like you and Sol don't still talk about everything else. This is just the one subject you've successfully avoided. Why is it so hard?”

“I don't know,” Frankie breathed. “I think...part of me feels like once he knows, he’ll feel like he's off the hook for what he did to me. Just because I'm happy now doesn't mean he didn't deserve all the ire and penance I made him face back then. He still fucked up. Nothing can ever make that go away. I forgive him, but I don't want him to feel like everything's absolved just because I fell for you in the end.”

“I can see how you might feel that way,” Grace blinked, fixing her collar beneath her tweed blazer. “But I can assure you, Sol will still feel guilty for the rest of his life. That's just his way.”

“Maybe you're right.”

“I know I am,” Grace added. “Anyway, why don't you bring this up with Dr. Judy when we see her next?”

“I think I will,” Frankie smiled. “You're really getting good at this.”

“Thanks,” Grace smirked. “Now let’s go ring the doorbell before they start wondering why we've been standing in the driveway for ten minutes.”

“Lead the way then, oh great mistress of change,” Frankie insisted. “Since you're so calm and collected.”

“Don't let my bravado fool you,” Grace took another deep breath, straightening her shoulders. “I'm nervous too. I just know it’ll be better after we get it over with. I can do the talking if you’d prefer.”

“Why stop now?” Frankie jabbed, holding on to Grace’s arm, allowing herself to be pulled the rest of the way towards the house.

* * *

“Robert, this is gorgeous!” Grace gasped, holding the elaborate kimono in front of her, spinning a little as she let it fan out against her body. “I was only kidding. I didn't really expect…”

“I knew it would look good on you,” he grinned, sipping his Manhattan as he sat on the arm of the sofa. “Is the color alright?”

“It's perfect,” she beamed. “Thank you so much.”

She leaned down, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Frankie watched from near the mantle, arms crossed, mocking them under her breath as she willed herself not to flip out.

“Where’s my gift?” she nudged Sol.

“Oh,” he jumped, looking around the room like someone would save him. “I uh…”

“You didn't get me anything, did you?”

“You specifically told me not to!”

“That was a defense mechanism in case you forgot,” Frankie glared. “You know me better than that.”

“Well, I listened, didn't I?” Sol explained. “I'm trying to get better at respecting what you tell me to do and not do.”

“Now you start?” Frankie argued. “When I could have had that jade tortoise I've always wanted? Or one of those little silk umbrellas with the orchids…”

“He did get you something, he just forgot about it. Right, Sol?” Robert stepped forward, handing Frankie her gift. “Or should I say, we did. Here.”

She took the package skeptically, ripping open the paper, revealing a kimono just like Grace’s, only a lighter shade of blue.

“Excellent. Now we can at least match in our culturally appropriated wardrobes.”

“Frankie,” Grace scolded through her teeth.

“I mean, thank you,” she batted her lashes facetiously. “It's very nice.”

“Anyhow, dinner’s ready,” Sol guided them towards the long wooden table, pulling out chairs for both their guests and Robert before seating himself.

“This looks amazing,” Grace complimented the extravagant meal, laying her napkin across her lap. “You must have spent a fortune at the fishmonger’s.”

“Yes, well, Sol actually suggested we go all out with the spread,” Robert boasted. “Last time we sat down for a meal together, just the four of us, it was...well, you know how it went.”

“It's been long overdue,” Sol agreed. “We're just so happy to put that behind us and start anew.”

“Funny you should say that,” Grace eyed Frankie, swallowing hard. “Because Frankie and I are in love with each other.”

“Ha!” Sol burst, buttering his roll. “Good one, Grace. Very cheeky.”

“I'm not kidding,” she cleared her throat.

Everything seemed to slow down then, like a rift in the space time continuum. The sound felt muted, and no one moved except Frankie, who accidentally dropped her fork on the table. She folded her hands in her lap, and Sol and Robert stared at her, then at Grace, back and forth like some kind of vaudeville routine they'd all stumbled into. She smiled sheepishly, biting the inside of her lip as she looked at Grace, begging her to finish pulling the worms out of the can she’d so nonchalantly spilled on the table in front of them.

“I'm…” Sol’s mouth hung open, but the words weren't coming. “I...sorry, are you...you're not saying…”

“We are,” Frankie exhaled. “A little sooner than I imagined, but yes. We are.”

“How did this...” he swallowed, continuing to waffle his gaze between the two women, neck teetering like a bobblehead. “I mean...I guess I can see _how_ , but I didn't really expect…”

“I'm pretty sure Robert did,” Grace spoke.

“I did,” Robert nodded quietly.

“You did?!” Sol’s eyes went wide. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because it wasn't my business to tell.”

“ _Really_?” Sol continued to gape. “You really think this isn't some kind of exception, considering…”

“It was never confirmed,” Robert went on. “I thought I’d wait and see if what I suspected really came to pass. And now we know.”

“I wanted to tell you sooner,” Grace breathed. “Way sooner, but I didn't really understand what was happening until…”

“Well,” Sol stared blankly at the table. “I am shook.”

“Honey, don't use terminology you don't understand,” Frankie laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know it's a lot to process, but you're gonna have to do most of your processing with someone other than me. Like Robert. Or a therapist. Grace can probably recommend a good one.”

“Oh sure,” Grace nodded. “But you can't have mine, sorry. I've got her on lock, but we’ll find you someone just as good.”

“I can't believe this,” Sol was dazed. “I mean...I don't know how I'm supposed to feel.”

“Happy?” Robert suggested. “Relieved that everything actually worked out better than we could have predicted when we set this whole damn thing in motion? Now we all get happy endings.”

“That's...a good way to look at it I suppose,” Sol squeaked. “So you're really... _together_ together, I mean, Grace...”

“What?” she smirked. “You're saying I never gave you any kind of vibe?”

“No,” everyone replied in unison.

“But that doesn't mean I still didn't know,” Robert added, holding his hand to his heart. “Forty years and I’ve never seen you smile like you do when you look at her. It was only a matter of time. I never dreamed it would happen like this. I doubt any of us did, but I'm delighted.”

“ _Really_?”

“Sol, find another word, please,” Frankie complained. “Or better yet, don't say anything. Just sit with your feelings until you can…”

“Are you sure about this?” Sol turned to Grace. “I mean...I know you got rid of that gun and all, and you’ve tried really, really hard to be the support she needs, I've seen it. But...there will be other guns, other compromises. Taking care of Frankie is a full time job...”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Frankie interrupted. “First of all, fuck you very much, and second, she doesn't have to answer to any of those things. I'm a grown fucking woman, Sol. We take care of each other.”

“Damn right we do,” Grace agreed. “I don't know what I'd do without her helping me through all of this. Or making sure I stop and breathe instead of just plowing through the next part, which I’m afraid I did again. Sorry.”

“It's okay,” Frankie told her, reaching for her hand under the table. “There’s no stopping you.”

“Anyway, Sol...while I don't appreciate the way you said what you just said, I get where you're coming from,” Grace admitted. “I haven't always been the best at appreciating Frankie’s needs, but I'm learning every day.”

“And she's a quick study, let me tell you,” Frankie winked.

“That's good,” Sol couldn't help but smile, even as his cheeks burned. “Very good. Still, I...it's hard to imagine Grace...I mean, Frankie, I always knew you were open, but you…”

“Well, let me make it very clear to you then,” Grace sat up taller. “I'm gay. I realize that may come as a shock, and I hope you don't feel like we’re stealing your thunder, but too bad. This is me now. This is us. I may not be entirely comfortable with the label yet, but it's a start. And I'm in love with this woman. I adore her more than anything in the world. Surely you must remember just a little of what that feels like, how easy it is to have her become the center of your universe, even if she does force me to meditate every day now before we can get on with the rest of our lives.”

“Don't I know it,” Sol smiled, stealthily wiping away a tear. “But it helps, right?”

“It does,” Grace rolled her eyes, and Frankie couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or a reaction to Sol’s deluge of emotions. “Anyway...I’ve shirked off the shackles of heteronormative brainwashing, and now I'm free. And I couldn't have done it without her. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. No offense, Robert.”

“None taken,” he allowed.

“And that's not a defense or an explanation, those are just the facts,” Grace continued. “So there.”

“That was so good, honey,” Frankie squeezed her hand. “Well done.”

“Sounds like there might be another kind of brainwashing going on,” Robert teased as he sipped his wine.

“You shush,” Grace smirked, hitting his shoulder.

“Well, I want to raise a toast,” Robert declared, lifting his glass. “To Grace and to Frankie. May the love you’ve found continue to flourish. And to all of us...for living into our truest selves.”

“Amen,” Sol chimed in emphatically, turning back to the girls. “I have so much love and respect for both of you. I hope you know that. I'm sorry for my inappropriate line of questioning. I was just a bit shocked, though I suppose I shouldn't be. I see the love you have for each other very clearly. And I know you don't need our blessing, but you certainly have mine.”

“Thank you,” Frankie nodded, holding back her own tears. “It does mean something. I don't know why, but it does.”

“Alright, enough of this,” Grace reached across the table for one of the platters. “Who wants clams?

“Clearly you two,” Robert poked.

“Robert!” Grace laughed, looking scandalized.

“Speaking of things I never expected to hear,” Frankie shook her head.

They each dug into the tray of shellfish, and Frankie couldn't help but keep her eyes fixed on Grace, impressed by how quickly she had diffused things, how far they had all come.

As nervous as she’d been about sitting here with their exes, she quickly realized there was nothing to worry about. Life was messy. The pain she felt was a trial she'd never forget, and the lingering feelings of betrayal, of bitterness, might not ever completely heal. But in the end, she hadn't lost anything. She still had Sol, their friendship extending beyond the romance they’d shared. She had Robert, surprisingly, his loyalty shining through more than ever before. And she had Grace.

Boy, did she have Grace.

They ate and drank to their heart’s content, the impossible foursome, reminiscing over a lifetime of memories as they set about making new ones.

* * *

Later that week, Brianna found herself sitting in the living room at the beach house, beaugarding the bowl of popcorn in the center of the couch as she flipped through channels trying to find the right one.

“Guys, it's almost nine!” she called into the kitchen. “You promised I wouldn't have to watch this sober. Hurry!”

“Sorry!” Frankie came gliding around the corner, holding out the tray of margaritas before leaving the rest on the coffee table. “I couldn't find the salt. I thought your mother got rid of it, but then I remembered I used it for texture in my snow leopard painting.”

“Which is all you should be using it for,” Grace waltzed in, cocktail in hand.

“How can we have margaritas without any salt?” Frankie debated.

“Look,” Grace gestured from behind the rim of her glass. “I'm doing just fine.”

“Well, don't be a martyr on my behalf. The occasion calls for full-blown margaritas. No cutting corners.”

“Am I going to be traumatized by this experience?” Brianna asked. “Is that why you're buttering me up with alcohol and treats?”

“You won't be traumatized,” Grace promised, pulling her bare feet up beneath her as she curled into an armchair. “You're the only one who showed the least bit of interest. I think it's nice, you watching with us.”

“Call me crazy,” Brianna shrugged. “I just figured I should take stock of what reputation the ex-CEO of Say Grace is garnering for herself on national TV these days.”

“I didn't even think of that,” Grace frowned. “Sorry. I guess I should have checked in with you sooner.”

“Oh no, I expect a sizable sales bump. People need lube to go along with their vibrators, don't they? It's a win-win, save for this entire conversation and whatever nightmare hellscape I'm about to witness.”

“It won't be that bad,” Frankie hit her arm. “Oh, shit! Here we go. Turn it up.”

The special began with its usual montage of subjects, ranging from blurred-out octogenarian nudists in Germany, a couple leading sex-ed for seniors seminars at a retirement community in Fort Myers, and clips of gay men in their sixties still swinging in clubs they’d been kicked out of decades earlier. Smaller flashes of a granny dominatrix appeared next, followed by an elder-led fertility ritual, and finally, Grace and Frankie sitting on the very sofa Brianna was perched on now, proudly displaying their Ménage à Moi.

“There!” Grace pointed excitedly. “There we are!”

“It was just three seconds,” Frankie swiped at the air in front of the screen like she could rewind it. “Oh well. I'm sure they're saving the good stuff for later.”

The show continued, honing in on some of the more radical participants first, especially the nudists, setting the tone for just how explicit Vice programs aimed to be.

“Okay, nope,” Brianna hid her eyes against Frankie’s shoulder. “That dick has a face on it. It looks like it’s wearing a pea coat. I'm out.”

“Buck up, girly,” Frankie shrugged her off. “This is just the beginning. How can you even tell what that was?”

“There's just...a lot of skin,” she winced.

“This is what old people look like,” Grace shook her head. “We can't all be Helen Mirren. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“It's fine,” Brianna regained her composure. “I was just expecting my bubble to burst much later in life. Like when I’m that age. Or never.”

“When will they get to our part?” Grace asked anxiously.

“Keep watching,” Frankie insisted. “They’ll slip it in somewhere. Just like that person’s slipping their fingers in…”

“Watermelon!” Brianna closed her eyes, arms shooting up in the air. “Oh wait, we didn't pick a safe word. I pick watermelon.”

“Watermelon’s not a safe word,” Frankie scowled. “That's what you say when you don't know song lyrics. Deepak Chopra. That's a good safe word.”

“Calm down,” Grace told Brianna. “We didn't even let them film us for half a day. Oh, wait...here! Listen.”

The narrator, whose voice sounded much younger than anyone featured in the doc, gave a little intro before the camera focused on the women being interviewed.

_ “I'm Grace Hanson.” _

_ “And I'm Frankie Bergstein.”  
  
_ __ “And we're Vybrant!”  they both announced, each holding up the purple, polka-dotted, banana-shaped apparatus. 

_After finding themselves divorced and single for the first time in forty years, these ladies decided to take their pleasure into their own hands._

_“Nobody wants to talk about masturbation when you're our age,”_ Grace spoke. _“But it's better than rushing into something with a new partner just because you feel like that's the only way to do things. Our generation was never encouraged to explore other options, but that's what we're here to do. Teach women how to take care of themselves.”_

 _It's a good thing older women have the Ménage à Moi,_ the narrator continued. _Some might never find another partner after their spouse dies or leaves them for greener pastures. Women can choose to be the masters of their own bodies, and with this fun, friendly vibrator, they at least have something to help keep them warm on those lonely nights._

“God,” Grace groaned. “They're making us sound so sad. Why do they assume everyone who uses it is alone?”

“Because we didn't give them any indication otherwise,” Frankie reminded. “This was strictly business, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” Grace swallowed. “I don't want women thinking they _have_ to use it by themselves. They shouldn’t give up on finding a partner, not if they really want one. There are lots of ways you can use it with someone…”

“Mom. Hi! Right here,” Brianna waved her hands.

“Wait...was that it?” Grace gawked at the TV.

“That was it,” Frankie nodded. “At least they kept in the part about our vitality in the market. That’s what we really wanted, right?”

“They made us look like a couple of prudes compared to everyone else,” Grace scowled.

“Not me,” Frankie shook her head. “You saw that wink I gave the camera at the end. That was a decidedly non-prudish wink. Short of making fuck me eyes at the guy filming, it was the best I could do.”

“Dead,” Brianna tucked her head into her shirt. “I am deceased.”

“I just...I thought they'd at least talk more about our journey, how we got the loan, how we started,” Grace complained. “More, I don't know... _us_.”

“Honey, I told you you'd be disappointed,” Frankie sighed. “But we agreed this was the best way to get our product out there without outing ourselves.”

“Yeah, well I don't care about that now,” Grace claimed. “I _want_ people to know. I should have been braver.”

“Sweetie, you are brave,” Frankie reached over, patting Grace’s thigh. “You've come so far so fast. Don't beat yourself up about this. There’ll be other opportunities.”

“We have to make our own opportunities,” Grace insisted. “We have to let people know we’re not just a couple of dried up spinsters sitting in our house alone diddling ourselves.”

“Deaf,” Brianna plugged her ears. “I've gone deaf now. Game over.”

“We could start our own YouTube channel!” Grace jumped. “Do our own sex positive spots. Give relationship advice. All of it!”

“Now you're talking!” Frankie high-fived her.

“That's not an entirely awful idea, actually,” Brianna had to admit.

“No, it's brilliant,” Grace breathed. “We could become the face of sexual liberation for older women across the country. I want to go door-to-door with our product. I want to be in every woman’s bedside drawer from here to Tallahassee, and on her laptop too. The go-to-gurus for older women getting it on.”

“That's the ticket!” Frankie cheered. “God, I am so proud of you. This bold new spirit is truly a sight to behold. I don't think you've ever been hotter.”

“You like it?” Grace smirked.

“I do,” Frankie leaned over, bringing their lips together as they laughed.

“Alright,” Brianna stood abruptly. “As sweet as this is, I'm headed out before you two Dr. Ruth's can't contain yourselves.”

“Sorry,” Grace shrank a little. “Are you weirded out by us kissing?”

“No, actually,” Brianna smiled, grabbing her purse. “But I'm still gonna leave you ladies to keep brainstorming, or...what have you.”

“Thanks for coming,” Grace pushed out of the chair, following her to the door. “Your support really does mean a lot. I can't tell you how much.”

“I think you just did,” Brianna grinned. “Night, mom.”

“Night, sweetie,” she kissed her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Brianna told her. “Night, Frankie!”

“Night, B!”

Grace closed the door, and Brianna walked back to her car, shaking her head as she laughed under her breath, more impressed than freaked by her mother’s newfound bravery, hoping she could channel some of it for her own.

* * *

“You saw it!?” Frankie sat up in bed, talking on the phone with Sol. “I know. It was about a month ago. We didn't think it was time to let the whole world in on us yet, but now Grace is kicking herself. I know, that's what I said. Anyway, I have to go. I'm trying to set us up for the next phase of our business. Tell Robert I said hello. Night.”

“I thought we said no laptops in bed,” Grace returned from the bathroom, rubbing lotion on her hands as she looked down at Frankie's makeshift desk. “Look who’s becoming a workaholic now.”

“I'm just trying to help,” Frankie defended. “If we use this thing called Hootsuite, we can plan our social media posts in advance. We won't even have to think about it.”

“Sounds efficient,” Grace smiled, sliding across the mattress in her silk pajamas, kissing Frankie’s cheek. “So...we’ll have more time for other things then?”

“Hmm,” Frankie giggled, shutting down the device. “What kinds of ‘other things’ did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Grace looked away shyly, stroking her fingers over Frankie’s chest. “Maybe some more personalized market research. If you’d be down with that.”

“I could be way down with that,” Frankie smirked, shifting onto her side, inching closer to Grace.

They were quiet for a few moments, just looking, breathing each other in, sitting with the silence of their big, delicious house, soaking in all the peace that came with it. Sharing a bed felt so comfortable now, like it had always been this way. Frankie imagined that's part of why she knew it would work out all along, even if it had taken her a while to trust they'd get there.

“You have the cutest nose,” she marveled.

“Really?” Grace couldn't help but smile. “Why do you say that?”

“Because it's true. Duh,” Frankie laughed. “It’s like a little sculpted piece of art. It's precious, just like the rest of you.”

“I almost got it done when I was twenty-two, you know.”

“Goddess no!” Frankie gasped. “I mean, I know you've had other things...adjusted. I don't judge any of it, but never touch that nose. Promise me?”

“I think the ship has sailed on that one,” Grace rolled her eyes. “But I promise. I actually like the way I look these days. Not that I won't get a touch-up every now and then, but I feel like I’ve earned this face.”

“You have,” Frankie gleamed, grabbing her cheeks, kissing her as she whispered. “It’s so gorgeous.”

“You're so gorgeous,” Grace glowed, wrapping her arms behind Frankie’s back, pulling her tighter. “Listen to us. We're nauseating.”

“I know it,” Frankie chuckled softly. “But if anyone has a problem with that, they can go fuck themselves.”

Grace laughed even harder, letting her lips fall open, and Frankie slipped her tongue inside, tasting her, diving in, hand smoothing down Grace’s arms as she relished the red silk, her toned muscles beneath it, loving how much of Grace she could hold with just one hand. She was so tiny, and yet, the way she moved, the way her heart beat so heavily, hips lurching forward, begging for more, always made her feel greater than the sum of her parts. Grace was insatiable these days, at least by seventy-year-old standards, and Frankie was more than up for the challenge of keeping her sated.

“Do you want me…”

“Yes I want you,” Grace shuddered.

“No, I got that part. I mean, do you want me to get our friend in the drawer next to you?”

“Oh...right,” Grace kept kissing, pulling Frankie with her as she leaned back, blindly flailing for the handle on her nightstand. She slid it open, retrieving what they were after. “Here…”

Grace pulled at her own pants, kicking them away, leaving her completely naked from the waist down. She pushed back the covers, letting herself be exposed so brazenly, and Frankie swallowed hard as she raked her eyes over her long, tan legs, down to her skinny ankles and beautifully bony knees. She trailed them back up to Grace’s lightly freckled thighs, marveling at the way they parted as she squirmed against the pillows, blushing playfully, willing her to continue.

Frankie sat up, taking a deep breath as she quickly pressed the buttons on the Ménage à Moi, finding the setting she knew Grace preferred. Grace dug into the drawer again for the lube, slathering her hand, dragging it through her own folds. Frankie’s breath caught at how Grace rubbed herself so needily, unable to stop, until she eyed Frankie, giving her the signal to keep going.

Frankie brought the buzzing circle right to where Grace needed it, letting it roll and click into place. Grace answered with her hips, rocking them forward, hands grasping at the sheets on either side of her body, then at Frankie’s cotton nightshirt.

“Come here,” her voice ached hoarsely.

Frankie leaned in, kissing her lips so surely, so gratefully, all the while moving the vibrator against Grace’s glistening skin. Grace panted, putting on a bit of a show, Frankie knew that much by now, until her breath evened out and became more real, more communicative. Grace spread herself further, and she latched onto Frankie’s cheekbones, pressing their foreheads together.

“God…” she shivered. “I need...need more…”

“What can I do?” Frankie asked frantically. “Please tell me.”

“Inside,” Grace begged, taking the vibrator from Frankie’s hand, holding it against herself. “I'll do this...you do…”

“This,” Frankie pressed her fingers right up against Grace’s entrance, gently fingering the soft flesh with just one digit, so torturously, she thought Grace might scream.

“Unggh! Please don't tease me…” Grace exhaled. “Not tonight, I...I need you…”

Frankie swiftly obeyed, slipping in with two fingers, then a third, knowing Grace could take it. She thrusted in and out, her own hips moving in time with her hand, knees shaking as she kneeled above. Grace kept a firm grip on the vibrator, holding it steady, the other hand tangled in Frankie’s hair, lips and teeth pressed against her jawline. She licked and kissed at her neck, mumbling sweet, dirty nothings into Frankie’s ear.

“You fuck me so fucking good,” Grace gasped. “How do you do it?”

“Easy,” Frankie huffed. “Your pussy feels amazing. I can't...can't get enough…”

“I thought you didn't like that word?”

“It's growing on me again,” Frankie swallowed. “I've reclaimed it. Plus...I like what it does to you.”

“What _you_ do to me,” Grace assured. “Gahhh…”

“Harder?”

“Yeah!” Grace sighed, head thrashing about as Frankie filled her to the brim, and her whole body quaked, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezing shut as her throat worked overtime. Frankie’s fingers pumped, and Grace came so hard, letting the device fall off the bed, bouncing across the floor as her body went limp, and Frankie collapsed against her chest.

“God in heaven,” Frankie breathed. “Honey, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Grace sucked in air, trying to regain control. “I'm...I'm sorry…”

“For what?” Frankie’s brow furrowed.

“For making us be straight on that damn program.”

“You didn't,” Frankie reached up, holding her cheeks. “We weren't playing it straight. We just didn't tell them how gay we were, that's all.”

“I wanted to be more for you,” Grace sniffed, every nerve in her body clearly still surging, physically and metaphorically.

“Grace, you're everything,” Frankie shook her head. “Nothing else matters.”

“Can I...can I do something for you?” Grace swallowed, searching Frankie’s eyes. “Please?”

“Not tonight,” Frankie smirked, rolling off to the side. “You've done plenty. I was really in more of a giving mood.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally,” Frankie nodded.

“Suit yourself,” Grace smiled, curling up on her shoulder. “So...what now? Are we really starting a thing on YouTube?”

“YouTube, Instagram,” Frankie began to list. “You name it, we can do it. Look at this,” she reached for her phone on the nightstand. “I signed us up for Snapchat.”

“What is that?”

“Lean your face in,” Frankie instructed, holding up the phone before snapping the image.

“Why do I look like a kitty with glasses?” Grace frowned.

“Because it's fun,” Frankie laughed. “Besides, you always look like a kitty to me.”

“You're not sending that out, are you?”

“No, it was just a test,” Frankie assured. “We’ll take our time developing content.”

“Very smart, Ms. Head of Creative,” Grace beamed. “What about developing new products? Do you think we're ready for that yet?”

“Why not?” Frankie shrugged. “I could start on a line of dildos right away.”

“Really?” Grace swallowed. She tried not to look too intrigued, but the corners of her mouth gave her away.

“Well, I’d make one for us first,” Frankie shared. “It'll be trial and error, but that's part of the fun.”

“Sounds like fun,” Grace scooted closer. “So that's it then? That's the next step.”

“Seems like it,” Frankie nodded. “I've got a question though.”

“What?”

“Did you ever really have a cousin?” she smirked. “I mean, does such a person even exist?”

“Not alive,” Grace admitted mischievously.

Frankie laughed up at the ceiling, pulling Grace closer, kissing the top of her head as she thought more about their next move, with the business, with everything, hoping they’d continue to be on the same page as time went on.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last full chapter, followed by an epilogue. Thank you so much for reading, for taking the time to comment, for all your love and support. I hope you've enjoyed this story. Let me know what you think. Thanks! (:

_One year later_.

Grace could only shake her head at how perfectly camouflaged Frankie was with the decor in Dr. Judy’s office. It was uncanny, really, the way her purple smock complimented the Thai curtains Rebecca had picked up on her recent trip to Bangkok, a detail Frankie culled from the therapist as she complimented her on their matching clogs. Rebecca was delighted to digress for a few minutes about the elephant sanctuary she'd visited, and Frankie insisted it was kismet, the two bonding over recipes for mee krob and homemade avocado masks.

Grace was initially jealous of their connection, when Frankie first started joining her appointments every so often. Rebecca insisted it wasn't couple’s therapy, not exactly, that Frankie was simply welcome to take part in Grace’s narrative process, just like Brianna had. Frankie brought a different perspective that could help both of them as they ventured forth in their “mutual journey of becoming.”  _Becoming what?_ Grace asked at the time, and she could have sworn Rebecca and Frankie shared a knowing laugh, but she didn't take offense to it.

If anything, having the two women who seemed to “get” her most, who knew her strengths and weaknesses and still never ran for the hills, was an incredible comfort, one Grace had never felt before. Being in therapy had become second nature at this point, the impulse to hide from her feelings, like she was taught to do growing up, dissipating from the moment she set foot in Dr. Judy’s office. Frankie’s presence only made her feel even more supported. So, Grace let go of the fact that her partner and her therapist seemed to share the same affinity for collecting mystical objects, and that together they could have donated enough peasant skirts to outfit an entire New Age village in Tibet.

“So you're enjoying life as a grandmother, I take it?” Rebecca asked.

“Oh, it's the bees knees,” Frankie crossed her legs, draping her arm over Grace’s lap as they squished together on the sofa. “We had our first sleepover the other night. The kids had concert tickets. I knew it would be fine, even though Grace was nervous because she's still so little.”

“Babies always make me nervous,” Grace admitted. “Even my own did at first, but Genie’s a really good one. So sweet.”

“And everything else?” Rebecca looked back and forth between them. “Have you been keeping up with your homework?”

“I’d say so,” Frankie nodded, turning to Grace. “Wouldn't you agree?”

“Definitely,” Grace breathed. “Especially since someone never lets me forget.”

“You enjoy it too,” Frankie grinned, gently shaking her arm. “At least it keeps me on my toes about the dishes, right?”

“That is true,” Grace smirked. “You have been much better about that lately.”

“Of course I have,” Frankie winked. “And you've been better about not moving my geodes without letting me know so I can recharge them afterwards.”

“Exactly,” Grace laughed as she rolled her eyes. “Just like every other household in America.”

“How about I check in with Grace for a few minutes before we wrap things up?” Rebecca suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Frankie stood, straightening out her palazzos. “See you next month, Dr. Judy. A pleasure, as always.”

“Likewise, Frankie,” Rebecca told her. “Take care.”

Frankie moved to the door, but before she could exit, she turned back to Grace, mouthing very clearly “Tell her about the thing.” Grace waved her off, smiling nervously as Dr. Judy watched them, and Frankie disappeared.

“Uh oh. What was that?”

“Just her reminding me about something,” Grace exhaled. “We both do it. I started it, but now it's ‘Maybe you should bring it up with Dr. Judy’ all the time. It works, sort of. It's a great way to delay stressful conversations, if anything.”

“Well, don't leave me hanging,” Rebecca insisted. “What's up?”

“Nothing major,” Grace clarified. “It's just...well, we've been talking about this YouTube channel for what feels like forever. At least a year, maybe longer. We even shot some practice vids, developed a few scripts, but we keep delaying for some reason. Frankie certainly seems less driven by it. I mean, not completely. The business is soaring. Our product expansion line is almost in full swing, but...I'm not sure either of us can communicate why we're stalling on the media front.”

“If it doesn't feel right, it's okay to let go,” Rebecca soothed. “You've got so much else happening these days.”

“I think when I first proposed it, I was in a very different place,” Grace continued. “I was so frustrated with myself for not taking the plunge, for not coming out in that stupid Vice segment, I just wanted to make up for it somehow. But now, nearly everyone knows. Both our families, all our friends. Well...most of our friends. Maybe all I wanted was for Frankie to know I was willing to do anything, even if it meant going outside my comfort zone, when the truth is…I like having our private life separate from our public personas. I think she does too, even if she won't admit it. I don't want that to ever go away.”

“Then maybe you have your answer,” Rebecca smiled. “And it sounds like Frankie will be okay with whatever that is.”

Grace nodded slowly, her attention drifting into space. She mindlessly played with the zipper on her purse, getting lost as she looked down into her lap.

“What is it?”

“It’s just...all this talk about next steps,” Grace swallowed. “I keep thinking...about where she and I might be headed. As a couple.”

“You mean...marriage?”

“God no,” Grace shook her head immediately, anxiously rubbing her legs. “No, I…I’d feel crazy even thinking about that yet.”

“But you are thinking about it,” Rebecca smirked. “Why is that so crazy?”

“Because,” Grace sighed, shifting. “I feel like we haven't been together long enough. I mean, Sol and Robert waited _twenty years_. Sure, there were plenty of painful reasons why they did, but...I don't know. Everything just feels so much easier with us. I can't fathom how hard it must have been for them. I don't want to admit it, but in some ways, Frankie and I have had it way easier than they did, and that feels...like we haven't earned the right to think about things like marriage yet. Like we haven't been through enough.”

“You really believe that?” Dr. Judy looked at her, for once, like she was crazy. “You really think you haven't been through enough?”

“Well, I…”

“Because from my perspective, Grace, you most certainly have. It's all relative, and it's your choice completely what you decide to do next, but don't feel like you have to suffer for some indeterminate amount of time in order to earn your happiness. That's not how life works, not how it should work. The narrative that we can only achieve everything we want after walking through the depths of hell to get there is a myth. There's nothing wrong with ‘easy.’ Maybe it feels easy because it's right? Have you considered that?”

“Yeah,” Grace laughed a little, smiling as she crossed her arms. “Every day in fact. I know it is.”

“See? And that says something. You've struggled enough for one lifetime. You’ve been through the fire. Now you get to bask in the afterglow, whatever  _you_ decide that might look like for you. And for Frankie.”

“Dr. Judy,” Grace teared up. “I don't know how to tell you...how grateful I am. You've helped me, helped us, so much. I can never thank you enough.”

“That's my job,” Rebecca told her. “You're the one who's done the work. You should be very proud.”

Grace nodded, letting that sink in, owning it fully.

She had come a long way. Now, it was time to decide just how much further she was willing to go.

* * *

“Eugenia? Eugenia, look at mommy. Yes! Yes, good girl,” Allison cheered, bouncing the little one on her knee as they sat at a table with a big umbrella.

“ _I thought we were going with Genie_ ,” Frankie whispered through her lips, using her well-honed ventriloquist skills so as not to draw too much attention.

“We like both,” Bud told her. “What's the big deal?”

“Alright, fine,” Frankie shrugged. “But Genie’s way easier.”

“It is,” Allison admitted. “Once she starts talking, I'm sure that’ll stick.”

“Have you thought about preschools yet?” Mallory asked, sipping her Bloody Mary. “I can write you a letter of recommendation for La Jolla, but if you're looking for something more competitive…”

“It’s still early for that,” Bud answered. “Plus, we might go the more non-traditional route.”

“Homeschooling?!” Frankie’s eyes went wide. “Oh, please no. You've seen how those Amish kids turn out. Once they hit eighteen, it's all run away trips to the big city and heroin binges in the bathroom at CBGBs.”

“We're not keeping her in a bunker, mom,” Bud scoffed. “Plus I'm pretty sure CBGBs has been closed for ten years, and the Amish aren't even homeschooled. I meant more like a nanny, if and when Allison decides to go back to work.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Grace interjected. “Whatever you decide, I'm sure she’ll be just fine.”

“Can I have some, please?” Madison begged Brianna, eyeing her electric yellow martini from her perch on her lap.

“Not yet, tiny Paris Hilton,” Bri patted the top of her head.

“Don't call her that,” Mallory winced. “You promised.”

“What?” Brianna defended. “She's brunching like a champ, and she's got these cool ass shades…”

“Bri,” Coyote put his finger to his lips. “Come on.”

“Sorry,  _cool AF_ shades,” Brianna rolled her eyes. “My training is nearly complete, save for the bottomless limoncello cocktails. Which, by the way, aren't even that good, Maddy, you're not missing out.”

“Whatever,” the little girl gave up, surfing laps until she landed back on her grandmother.

“Aren't you traveling later today?” Grace eyed Brianna, giving Maddy a squeeze.

“Yes, that's why I'm preparing now,” the blonde lifted her drink in the air. “It's a long way to Baton Rouge. It's like going to Mars, only with less progressive politics and shoddy dental work.”

“Is that where Barry is now?” Bud asked. “I can't believe you’re still chasing that fool. I say fish or cut bait, pronto. He's been stringing you along for way too...”

“I'm not _chasing_ anyone, and he's not stringing,” she glared. “We're figuring things out. It's just taking a while, that's all. Plus, I don't think he's headed back to San Diego anytime soon, and as much as I'd like to work on my twang, life in the Bayou doesn't feel like my style.”

“Let him come to you,” Grace whispered from behind her shades, leaning closer. “I mean, go, certainly, have fun. But you don't have to sacrifice everything for him. If it's right, he’ll come back around again.”

“Oh he’s already coming,” Brianna smirked. “Wait...shit. That sounded wrong.”

“Bri!” Mallory groaned, trying in vain to cover Madison’s ears.

“There's no hope for her,” Brianna shook her head. “She's already tainted.”

“Hey, do you guys think you could babysit again tomorrow night?” Allison asked Frankie. “I've got my bi-monthly check in with my immunologist and I’d rather not drag her along.”

“ _Shouldn't she get used to it_?” Coyote snarked under his breath.

“Sorry, hon, no can do,” Frankie told her. “We've already got plans. But let's get back to that calendar idea soon, because I definitely need my regularly scheduled Bubbe Frankie-Genie Weenie time.”

“Genie Weenie is a no go,” Bud drew the line. “Uh uh.”

“It's better than Eugenia!” Frankie argued. “She sounds like a country in Eastern Europe. Or a well-loved house plant.”

Allison laughed at the dig, handing the little bundle over to Frankie, who sniffed her like she was a freshly baked Cinnabon. Grace softened as she watched her, letting the baby squeeze her finger, listening to Frankie’s incoherent babbles to the newest edition of their family.

* * *

The next evening, Grace held on to the back of Frankie’s shirt for dear life as they waded through a crowd of very stinky people, trying not to get separated while they filed into the San Diego Amphitheater.

“Do you want to find our seats and I'll get us drinks?” Grace offered.

“Sure thing, chicken wing,” Frankie smiled. “No alcohol for me though. I brought along the goods for a little vape action. I'd like to recreate the exact state I was in the last time I zenned out to the smooth croonings of the Fab Faux, save for the benefit of your added presence, of course.”

“Fine,” Grace sighed. “Just...try to be discreet.”

“Honey, no one cares here. We'd stand out more if we didn't have a cloud of smoke floating above our heads.”

“Good point,” Grace conceded, glancing at the mix of yuppies and Woodstock veterans surrounding them. “Anyway, I'll be right back.”

She headed for the concessions stand, prepared to wait in line for quite a while given how packed the place was. Grace was thankful they'd opted for actual chairs at least. The lawn seats appeared to be taken up by college kids sneaking swigs from flasks and tossing around a frisbee, letting it whiz by the heads of older concert-goers without a second thought. As much as she’d adapted to a more laid back lifestyle, rubbing elbows with a bunch of frat boys who’d probably only recently learned who John Lennon even was didn't sound like her idea of fun.

“Grace? Is that you?”

Grace practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of that voice, heart dropping into her stomach. Her skin clammed up, and she turned around slowly, prepared to come face-to-face with the crocodile herself.

“Janet,” she smiled tightly, afraid she might burst a blood vessel. “What a surprise. What, uh...what are you doing at a thing like this?”

“Bob just loves the Beatles,” she groaned. “I told him I'd come so long as he didn't expect me to sing with him.”

“Oh, well, that sounds reasonable.”

“How about you?” Janet smirked, hiking her Chanel purse up on her shoulder. “Did I see Frankie down in the bleachers below us, or was that someone else with her hair? There are so many here, it's hard to tell.”

“Yes, you probably did see her,” Grace swallowed. “Guess you sprang for the club seats?”

“You know Bob,” Janet rolled her eyes. “So...it’s just the two of you then?”

“Uh huh,” Grace nodded. “This is one of Frankie’s favorite events, right up there with the annual Jicama Harvest, and we missed that this year, so...here we are.”

Grace laughed nervously at herself, locking her knees, feeling every muscle in her body lurch into panic mode. She’d successfully avoided Janet since their stand-off at the bogus bowling alley that day. So much had changed since then. She couldn't believe after all this time, she had to run into her here.  _Why here,_ she cringed.

“Mary mentioned you two were...an item now, I guess you'd say,” Janet went straight for the jugular, not unexpectedly.

“Did she?” Grace’s eyebrow rose.

“Well, Arlene told her, and she told me. Can't keep a thing like that from making the gossip rounds, I'm sure you've realized.”

“Actually, I hadn’t,” Grace straightened her shoulders. “I tend to stay out of other people's business nowadays. I've got way too much going on to keep up with everyone else.”

“I'm sure you do,” Janet narrowed her eyes. “Well, good to see you, Grace. Enjoy the show. I know I certainly will.”

“Right,” Grace breathed, stepping back in line. “Good to see you too, Janet.”

When she reached the counter, she asked the bartender to pour her two doubles. Grace paid for the vodka tonics, squeezing the shit out of a handful of limes, before quickly heading back to Frankie.

“You won't believe who I just ran into,” she started talking before she could even make it into her seat.

“Diane Sawyer!” Frankie burst out.

“What?” Grace looked at her strangely. “No.”

“I hear she's a big fan. Anyway, if not Diane, then who?”

“Pussface,” Grace glowered. “And apparently she's got her spy goggles focused on us right now.”

“No!” Frankie stood, scanning the crowd behind them like she was surveying her kingdom. “Where is she?”

“ _Sit down_ ,” Grace whispered, pulling Frankie’s arm. “Please. I don't want to draw extra attention.”

“What did she say to you?” Frankie demanded. “Tell me. Did she spout homophobic slurs? Because I might be tempted to not smoke after all if I need to smack a bitch down.”

“No, Frankie, she did not go all Fred Phelps on me in the line to get drinks,” Grace huffed. “But I could tell she was thinking it. Honestly, I don't know why anyone speaks to her anymore. Cutting her out of my life was one of the best decisions I ever made.”

“Amen,” Frankie agreed. “I just hope it doesn't ruin the show for you. It might be distracting, feeling her beady eyes burning holes into the back of our heads.”

“Don't worry about it,” Grace insisted. “I won't let her ruin this, not for either of us. She's completely insignificant. Just forget I said anything. I shouldn't have even told you.”

“I'm glad you did,” Frankie rubbed her arm. “It's alright if you're feeling shaken. Being out at home is one thing. Coming to something as crowded as this, getting ambushed by old Pussface, I can see how that might throw you. If you want me to play it cool, I understand.”

“Thank you, but there's no need,” Grace grabbed her hand. “I'm happy here with you. Nothing can put a damper on that.”

“Okay then,” Frankie smirked, and the lights from the stage began to flicker as the stadium spots dimmed. “Ah! Showtime!”

Four microphones emerged from the platform, and soon enough, Ringo, John, Paul and George—or at least their cover-band counterparts—appeared against a backdrop of psychedelic flowers and doves swirling rhythmically across a screen. It was pretty impressive, Grace had to admit, the whole crowd rising to their feet in a sea of lighters and applause as the first few notes of “All You Need is Love” began to play. Frankie tugged at Grace’s hand, and slowly, reluctantly, Grace stood with her, if anything so she could see better.

Frankie swayed to the tune, hips circling as she shut her eyes and her long, green and blue dress fluttered like a wave in the wind, hair sweeping off her neck. She fanned herself with the program. It was warm for December, and the crowd and the lights kept it stuffy even though they were outdoors. Grace watched her, mesmerized by how free she was, how quickly Frankie had become entranced by the vibe of the place, forgetting everything else. Grace couldn't help but imagine the young woman she once was, long before they even met, how she'd probably been to hundreds of concerts just like this, with people more like her, more easily willing to lose themselves in the moment.

Then again, as lovely as she knew Frankie had been in her twenties, Grace couldn't have pictured anyone more beautiful, more magical and full of life than Frankie was now. She felt her pulse race as she watched her slip the vape from her pocket, taking a puff before opening her eyes again. Frankie turned them to Grace, irises so big and blue and glittering, lips so full as she laughed, exhaling a little before she coughed and handed Grace the device.

Grace looked down at it, then back up at the club seats behind them. She couldn't see exactly where Janet was sitting, but she knew she was there. She could feel all her judgments, every haughty rule she once subscribed to about social decorum weighing on her shoulders, all of her guilt, all her self-restrictions piling up inside.

And then, just as easily, she let it all fade away.

Grace took a small puff before handing the vape back to Frankie. The song continued, and before too long, Grace reached out again, proudly taking Frankie’s hand, pulling it against her chest. Frankie looked back at her, surprised, and Grace couldn't help but lean in, clutching her face as she brought their lips together, kissing Frankie fiercely, like they were the only two people there under the stars.

They stood arm-in-arm after that, listening to this song about learning to be you, how easy things were when it was meant to be. Grace rested her head on Frankie’s shoulder, swaying with her, letting herself get lost in the moment, knowing deeply, fully, that this was all she needed.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist adding this little glimpse into the not-so-distant future (: Hope you enjoy!

“B7,” Grace called out.

“Damn, another one?” Frankie moved the tiny peg into her plastic vessel. “Are you sure you’re not cheating?”

“How could I be cheating? It’s not like I’ve got mirrors hidden up my sleeves.”

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” Frankie sighed. “Who ever thought we'd be playing battleship on an actual battleship?”

“It's not a battleship,” Grace corrected, carefully calculating her next move. “It’s a catamaran. If we took this into battle, we'd definitely be sunk.”

“Ah, thanks for that, Captain Stubing,” Frankie saluted. “Anyway, I’ve got a better idea. How about whoever wins this game gets to pick what we do next?”

“I don’t know,” Grace smirked. “Could be dangerous.”

“I could go for dangerous,” Frankie teased, reaching across the galley table, stroking the back of Grace’s hand.

“Not yet,” Grace swatted her away. “We’re still in the heat of battle.”

“Well, maybe I’m in a different kind of heat,” Frankie pouted, leaning back in her chair, eyes wandering over Grace’s exquisitely tan body. “That beach cover-up doesn’t really live up to it’s namesake, does it?”

“Frankie…”

“I’d like to take you out on deck and get our money’s worth…”

“Frankie!” Grace shushed. “The captain.”

“He can’t hear us. He's practically deaf.”

“I think you're confusing him with you,” Grace laughed softly, cheeks flushed. “Anyway, focus.”

“Fine. G8. I win.”

“How did you…” Grace was stunned, mouth agape.

“I’ve got my own set of tricks up my sleeve. No mirrors, all skill. Besides, it's finally stopped raining. Shall we?”

“Fine. I’ll go out there with you, but no funny business,” Grace warned as she stood, smoothing her white linen dress over her black bathing suit. “Or at least...nothing too funny.”

“I make no promises,” Frankie grinned, leading her by the hand as they made their way outside. She slid open the door to the cabin, stepping out into the sunlight first.

“Oh my god, this is gorgeous!” Frankie held onto her wide-brimmed hat, careful not to let it fly away as the wind swirled around them on the narrow ship. The Pacific had never looked so clear and bright, turquoise mixing with white, fluffy waves and foam as they sailed just off the coast of Malibu. 

“I know it's not the South China Sea or anything crazy like that, but I thought you'd like it,” Grace stood behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist, gripping onto the railing. 

“I do,” Frankie laughed, nuzzling against her. “You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Grace Hanson? Catamarans, hot air balloon rides. What's next? Where do we go from here?”

Grace took a deep breath, feeling around in her pocket for the small piece of jewelry, checking to make sure it was still there. She grabbed Frankie again, kissing her cheek, staring out across the sea, like time, for once, was totally on their side.

They stood there for a long while, dreaming about all the beautiful moments they’d shared, where they had been, and where they were headed in the many years to come. 


End file.
